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 UCSB LIBRARY
 
 ME M I R S 
 
 A WORKING MAN. 
 
 IF I ONE SOUL IMPROVE, I HAVE NOT LIVED IN VAIN. 
 
 LONDON: 
 CHARLES KNIGHT & Co., LUDGATE STREET. 
 
 1845.
 
 London ; Printed by William Clowes and Son*. Stamford Street.
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 BY THE EDITOR OF THE WEEKLY VOLUME. 
 
 The celebrated Gibbon, in the introductory por- 
 tion of his own ' Memoirs,' speaking of the auto- 
 biographies of various men of letters, says — " Such 
 portraits are often the most interesting, and some- 
 times the only interesting part of their writings : 
 and, if they be sincere^ we seldom complain of the 
 minuteness or prolixity of their personal memo- 
 rials." This, no doubt, is perfectly true with re- 
 gard to the self-executed portraits of men of any 
 literary eminence. But shall we feel an equal 
 interest in the "personal memorials" of a man of 
 humble station, unknown to the world — who may. 
 indeed, have had as strong aspirations after know- 
 ledge as the most illustrious author of his age, as
 
 Vl INTRODUCTION. 
 
 much satisfaction in its acquirement, but who has 
 walked through life humbly and obscurely — who 
 has laboured with his own hands to earn his daily 
 bread — who has endured the bitterest poverty — 
 who has been prostrated, for years, by chronic 
 sickness — whose earliest lot was toil and indigence 
 — and whose accumulations for the days when the 
 small rewards of toil shall be no more are of the 
 very scantiest amount ? Such a man is the ' Work- 
 ing Man ' whose ' Memoirs ' are now presented to 
 the reader. We believe that these ^ Memoirs,' in 
 their own degree, will interest as much as any other 
 of the kind which deal not with striking adven- 
 tures, but present a clear reflection of the mind of 
 the writer, which is sincere. Gibbon truly says — 
 " The public are always curious to know the men 
 who have left behind them any image of their 
 
 minds The student of every class may 
 
 derive a lesson or an example from the lives most 
 similar to his own.^^ When Gibbon wrote his 
 * Memoirs,' it was scarcely present to his view that 
 every class of students would be a term of far 
 wider application half a century after his own day 
 than when the love of books was a rare distinction. 
 One of his contemporaries wrote the life of a Stay- 
 maker^ who had made himself a competent Greek
 
 INTRODUCTION. Vll 
 
 scholar, and was a wonder in those times. The 
 same age produced its usual share of prodigies in 
 the shape of rhymesters who had never been to 
 school, who were patronized as foils to the rhyme- 
 sters who had been to school. But such examples 
 indicated nothing of the tendencies of a class. Had 
 a Tailor written his Memoirs, who had nothing to 
 record of marvellous adventure, nothing of preco- 
 cious talent — who had never been patronized out 
 of the proper performance of his duties — who had 
 only to show how the humblest lot is not incom- 
 patible with literary tastes, with the love of the 
 excellent, with cheerful thoughts reflected from the 
 contemplation of nature, with tranquil musings 
 derived from a familiarity with nature's best inter- 
 preters, and, above all, with a contented spirit 
 founded upon deep and constant piety— if such a 
 person had appeared with his 'Memoirs,' half a 
 century ago, how utter would have been his ne- 
 glect! Contempt would have been too much 
 honour for him. But the circle is widened. He 
 has now his own class of students to sympathise 
 with him, and to cherish his lessons and exam- 
 ples. 
 
 The peculiar interest of these ' Memoirs of a 
 Working Man ' is in the view which they present
 
 Vlll INTRODUCTION. 
 
 of the mode in which the mind of the writer has 
 been formed, under the most adverse circumstances. 
 He makes no claim to any extraordinary powers of 
 understanding ; he displays no unwonted energies. 
 He is neither the " village Hampden," nor the 
 '•mute inglorious Milton," whose "destiny ob- 
 scure *' w^as determined by his lot in life. Yet of 
 him, as of many others now, who have " kept the 
 noiseless tenour of their way," it cannot be said 
 that 
 
 " Knowledge to their eyes her ample page 
 Rich with the spoils of time did ne'er unroll." 
 
 That page has been unrolled to many an eye, in 
 the midst of " chill penury ;" and yet " the genial 
 current of the soul " has not been frozen. This, 
 Me believe, is a distinction w Inch has only begun 
 to be understood in our own day. It is not to be 
 inferred tliat a man who diligently performs all the 
 duties of the humblest calling is necessarily igno- 
 rant ; or that if he reach some of the acquirements 
 which were once held to belong to the noble, the 
 wealthy, and the professionally learned, he must 
 be discontented with his station, and become inca- 
 })able of performing the offices by which he claims 
 a share of the labour-fund, ^vhich is the only inhe-
 
 INTRODUCTION. IX 
 
 ritance of him and of his class. It is beginning to 
 be felt that knowledge is the common property of 
 the human family — the only property that can be 
 equally divided without injury to the general stock. 
 These ' Memoirs of a Working Man ' were written, 
 I believe, without the view of inculcating this prin- 
 ciple ; but one of my chief inducements to include 
 them in this series is to add another to the few public 
 examples of the blessings that directly, and inde- 
 pendent of any collateral advantage, belong to the 
 cultivation of a taste for reading and composition, 
 amongst the great body of our fellow-men who 
 pursue the most mechanical and laborious employ- 
 ments of society. The lesson to be taught by this 
 little book is the same that was taught by ' Mind 
 amongst the Spindles,' — namely, " that a strict and 
 diligent performance of daily duties is no impedi- 
 ment to the exercise of those faculties, and the 
 gratification of those tastes, which, whatever the 
 w^orld may have thought, can no longer be held to 
 be limited by station." 
 
 The author of these * Memoirs' has not published 
 them with his name. Nor does he mention the 
 names of any persons with whom he has been 
 brought into contact ; nor even of the two or three 
 very creditable little works which he has previously 
 
 A3
 
 X INTRODUCTION. 
 
 published. There can be no objection, however, 
 for me to mention that he is the author of one of a 
 series called ' The Guide to Trade,' published by 
 Charles Knight and Co., and that in 1840 he was 
 introduced to me by a gentleman well known in 
 the world of letters and of art, as a highly deserv- 
 ing man carrying on a little business for himself as 
 a tailor, with a dependent family, and struggling 
 with the severest ill health. The Manual for the 
 Apprentices to Tailors, which he then wrote, gave 
 abundant proof of his technical skill. But this 
 treatise also exhibited the rational and contented 
 tone of mind with which the writer looked upon 
 his own vocation in life. After offering some 
 sound practical advice on the subject of morals and 
 religion, he thus concludes : — " If he [the appren- 
 tice] attends to these admonitions and counsels, he 
 will ultimately find that, although he may not be 
 able to command great wealth, or fame, or station, 
 he will both acquire and enjoy what is far better 
 than all these together — namely, good health, a 
 peaceful and contented mind, a fair reputation, and 
 in general as much money as will enable him to 
 procure all the necessaries and many of the com- 
 forts of life. And should he at any subsequent 
 time be enabled to become a master, he will be all
 
 INTRODUCTION. XI 
 
 the more likely to succeed well in that capacity, 
 for having been an industrious, careful, and well- 
 behaved journeyman. Such cases are by no means 
 rare; and although all cannot be masters, much 
 less wealthy masters, yet all may be worthy and 
 intelligent men, and, being such, may reasonably 
 look for a sufficient maintenance, and also for much 
 real and lasting enjoyment." 
 
 Holding in respect the principles and character 
 of this good man, I was gratified when he asked me 
 to look over the ' Memoirs,' which he had been 
 preparing for several years. His wish was to pub- 
 lish them by subscription. In their original form 
 they were incomplete, as far as regarded the period 
 of his life to which they came down ; and they were 
 somewhat too diffuse in particulars which could only 
 be interesting to himself and his family. I recom- 
 mended him to continue them with brevity to the 
 present time ; to curtail such matters as most re- 
 tained the quality of " garrulous old age," of which 
 tendency he was quite aware ; but on no account to 
 suppress what would be interesting to all — the his- 
 tory of the formation of his habits of thought, and 
 thence of his system of conduct — the development 
 of his intellectual and moral life. Upon receiving 
 the Manuscript thus altered and completed, I pro-
 
 XU INTRODUCTION. 
 
 posed to publish it in the Weekly Volume. This 
 is the extent of my editorial duty. I have not 
 added, nor have I altered, a single word. The 
 purity of its style is one of the most remarkable 
 characteristics of this little book. 
 
 Charles Knight. 
 
 January 17, 1845.
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 During the last ten or twelve years, I have often 
 thought of writing some account of myself, but 
 was deterred from doing so by various and, at the 
 time, insurmountable obstacles. Having, however, 
 about four years ago, mentioned my wishes to 
 several friends on whose judgment I could safely 
 depend, they advised me to undertake the task. 
 Thus encouraged, I went to work, and, at length, 
 have brought it to a conclusion. 
 
 As some apology for the imperfections which 
 will, doubtless, be manifest to the judicious reader, 
 I have to say, that the manuscript was written at 
 uncertain intervals, under many literary disad- 
 vantages, and in the midst of various difficulties, 
 among which that of much bodily disorder and 
 weakness must be specially noted. 
 
 Should what I have thus committed to paper be 
 at all amusing or instructive to the reader, I shall 
 not have wholly misapplied my labour.
 
 MEMOIRS 
 
 OF 
 
 A WORKING MAN, 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Within a hundred miles of London there is a large 
 and pleasantly situated town, which is remarkable 
 for its antiquity, and also for its having been the 
 scene of some important historical events. It is, 
 moreover, worthy of notice on account of the many 
 remains of buildings and other works of ancient art 
 which still exist within its boundaries, as also in its 
 immediate neighbourhood. 
 
 The town is said to have been founded by a colony 
 of Romans, and further to have been one of the 
 earliest of the Roman settlements in Britain. 
 
 There I was born, but neither of my parents were 
 native inhabitants. My mother came hither from a 
 small town nearly twenty miles distant, and my 
 father from the remoter part of a neighbouring 
 county. 
 
 Of my ancestors I know nothing, but from the 
 family surnames I infer that they were poor persons. 
 The surname of those on my father's side was evi- 
 dently taken from the occupation of him who first 
 bore it, and denotes that he was a vassal of the
 
 16 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 
 
 lowest class. Those on my mother's side seem to 
 have been of equally humble origin, as the surname 
 appears to have been suggested by sun-burnt or 
 vpeather-beaten complexion. 
 
 Whether any of their descendants, on either side, 
 ever emerged from their native obscurity and poverty, 
 I cannot tell ; but in the absence of all traditionary 
 evidence on this head, I conclude that they did not. 
 An event so gratifying to human vanity as that of a 
 family rising from a lowly state to one of compara- 
 tive wealth or high station, would not be likely to 
 fall into oblivion. 
 
 I am the more confirmed in this view because 
 both my father and mother were the children of 
 poor parents; my grandfather on the one side 
 having been a husbandman, and on the other a 
 journeyman wool-comber. My father followed the 
 occupation of a husbandman until he was of mature 
 age, when he became what may be called "man of 
 all work " to a wine-merchant. My mother lived as 
 servant in the same family, and from this circum- 
 stance followed the acquaintance which subsequently 
 led to their marriage. Soon after this event my 
 father became cellar-man to his master, and was in 
 comfortable circumstances. He seems to have then 
 been both a useful servant and a good husband. 
 My mother was a worthy woman, and a good house- 
 wife — careful, orderly, and industrious. For several 
 years they lived together comfortably; but subse- 
 quently lost all their advantages by my father's 
 imprudence. Unhappily he contracted a habit of 
 drinking intemperateiy, which ultimately became
 
 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 17 
 
 the source of many domestic troubles and privations, 
 in the midst of which my mother gave me birth. 
 
 I was born on July 5, 1792, but in so feeble a state 
 as to be thought dead. After having been put aside 
 for some little time, a neighbour in attendance upon 
 my mother observed that I showed symptoms of 
 being alive, on which she took me in hand, and thus 
 saved me from a premature death. But although it 
 was given me to live, I proved to be of a feeble con- 
 stitution, which in subsequent years brought upon 
 me many infirmities and inconveniences. I am 
 indeed unable to apprehend fully the pleasurable 
 sensations attendant upon robust and unbroken 
 health, having never enjoyed that invaluable bless- 
 ing, but I suppose them to be very delightful, 
 and cannot but wish that all who possess what 
 is called " good health " were duly sensible of its 
 value. 
 
 AVhen I was nearly two years old my father enlisted 
 as a private soldier into one of the regiments of the 
 line, and was soon afterwards sent upon foreign ser- 
 vice, from which he did not return for about four 
 years. During this time he suffered many hardships, 
 and was exposed to much danger. His regiment 
 formed part of the force under the command of the 
 late Duke of York in his disastrous expedition to the 
 Continent. He subsequently served in Portugal, and 
 at Gibraltar, where being disabled by a fall, he was 
 discharged, and sent to England. When he left 
 home, I was too young to have any intelligent know- 
 ledge of him, and therefore on his return I regarded 
 him both as a stranger and intruder. I was, indeed,
 
 18 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 
 
 told that he was my " father," but I did not fully 
 comprehend what this meant, and it was a long while 
 before I could regard him with any of the affectionate 
 tenderness which I always felt for my mother. 
 
 I have no recollection of anything that befel me, 
 or in which I was concerned, until about the close of 
 my fifth year ; but from that time my remembrance 
 of persons, things, and events is tolerably distinct 
 and complete. As, however, the greater number of 
 my early recollections are connected with merely 
 childish matters, I shall give them only a brief 
 notice. 
 
 One of the first incidents I remember is that of 
 having seen a party of militia recruits going through 
 their exercises in the public street. I could net 
 comprehend what was meant by the incessant cry of 
 " right," " left," with other words of command, nor 
 could I see the utility of so many persons walking to 
 and fro, and putting themselves into so many dif- 
 ferent postures and positions, without any apparent 
 purpose. 
 
 I also remember that it was about this time I began 
 to be kindly noticed by a good woman, who after- 
 wards was married to one of my maternal uncles. As 
 she treated me with much kindness, she soon gained 
 ray affectionate regard. After her marriage she 
 frequently took me to her house, where I soon found 
 myself to be very much at home. 
 
 She was a very industrious woman, and quite re- 
 markable for her love of cleanliness. In her person 
 she was one of the most neatly attired women I have 
 ever seen ; while the floor and walls of her cottage,
 
 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 19 
 
 together with every article of her household furniture, 
 were kept in the cleanest possible condition. She 
 carried her dislike to dirtiness so far as to request 
 every person coming into her house to be careful not 
 to soil, or otherwise put out of order, the well- 
 scrubbed and " neatly sanded floor." I was not dis- 
 posed to be of either slovenly or dirty habits, and 
 therefore seldom if ever gave her any trouble on 
 these accounts. She did not allow me to be idle, but 
 alternately employed me in helping to knit stockings 
 and in reading. While I was unemployed I found a 
 never-failing source of amusement in scanning the gro- 
 tesque figures and scenes delineated upon the Dutch 
 tiles- with which the chimney-corners were covered 
 and decorated. I believe that these pictures, rude 
 as they were, helped me a little the better to under- 
 stand what I read to her out of the Bible and other 
 religious books. I believe that these readings were 
 rather useful to me than otherwise ; but this, perhaps, 
 arose partly from the pains she took to indulge my 
 fancy, in other matters, and partly also from the 
 motherly way in which she endeavoured to make me 
 understand what I read. 
 
 As a general rule, I think it may be fairly deter- 
 mined that the requiring children or youths to read 
 a given portion of the Sacred Scriptures, at a pre- 
 scribed time, as a lesson or task, is very injudicious. 
 It is yet more so, I think, when it is required of them 
 to commit^ whole chapters or even paragraphs to 
 memory. 
 
 I remember to have read of Lord Bolingbroke, that 
 he attributed his distaste for theological truth to the
 
 20 MEMOIRS OF A WOBKIXG MAN. 
 
 circumstance of his having been obhged when a child 
 to read frequently, and for a considerable time at each 
 sitting, out of some book on divinity. For myself I 
 remember to have had a somewhat similar feeling in 
 regard to two chapters in the New Testament, one of 
 which my father appointed as a task for me, and the 
 other for one of my brothers. I could not for many 
 years regard these chapters with the same satisfaction 
 as I could all the other parts of the sacred wTitings. 
 
 About this time I also gained the good-will of an 
 aged woman who sold cakes, sweetmeats, and fruit, 
 and was moreover a dealer in little books. With 
 her, as w^ith my aunt, I was quite at my ease, as she 
 freely gave me much that tickled the palate, and 
 also allowed me ample scope for amusing my childish 
 fancy. I had even then a taste for reading, which was 
 here gratified by my being permitted to read all the 
 little stories which she kept on sale. They were, in 
 truth, childish trifles ; but I still think of them 
 with pleasure, because they were associated in my 
 case with many pleasant recollections. Were I to 
 follow the impulse of my feelings, I should here give 
 their titles and some account of their contents, but 
 I must forbear trifling to that extent. Here also I 
 met with some books of a higher order, but which 
 were then far beyond my comprehension. Among 
 these were ' Hervey's Meditations,' ' The Pilgrim's 
 Progress,' and an illustrated (?) Bible. This last work 
 was crowded with engravings, which were called 
 embellishments. Each of these was pompously de- 
 dicated to some great personage, and was evidently 
 thought by the pubhsher, to be no small ornament
 
 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 21 
 
 to the book. I much suspect, however, that they 
 would cut a poor figure by the side of the engravings 
 in any similar work of the present day. They were, 
 I think, sorry affairs in regard to both design and 
 execution. As to the designing part, some of them 
 were not a little ludicrous. I well remember being 
 much amused with the oddness of several, but will 
 mention only two. In the first the artist intended to 
 give an illustration of the passage (in St. Matthew's 
 Gospel) which speaks of a man attempting to pull a 
 " mote" out of his "brother's eye," while a "beam" 
 is in his " own eye." This was represented by the 
 figures of two men, one of whom was depicted as 
 having a small splinter of wood sticking in his eye, 
 and the other as in the act of attempting to pull it 
 out, although a fair-sized beam was protruding from 
 his own. In the second engraving an attempt was 
 made to illustrate St. Paul's being miraculously 
 restored to sight ; and here the artist represented the 
 Apostle as having a pair of balances in the act of 
 falling from his eyes. But I am wandering, and 
 must retrace my steps. When at home I was usually 
 employed in some useful way ; for although I was 
 still very young, yet I had learned to assist in house- 
 hold work, to knit stockings, and to do several other 
 things. My mother saw the importance of training 
 me early to habits of industry and good order. 
 She thought it no argument against my doing any- 
 thing, that it was usually performed by girls ; nor 
 would she at all excuse me from doing it upon this 
 ground. I must have begun to learn at a very early 
 age, for I have no recollection of the time when I
 
 22 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 
 
 could not knit or assist in other household business ; 
 nor do I remember the time when I could not read 
 with tolerable ease and correctness. My eldest 
 brother taught me to write, and it must have been 
 when I was very young, for I cannot recollect when 
 I first began to use a pen. 
 
 I was allowed but little time for play, perhaps not 
 enough for the preservation or improvement of my 
 health and cheerfulness, nor was I ever allowed to play 
 in the streets. But I fully acquit ray parents of all 
 blame herein. If they erred, their error was on the right 
 side ; for no acquisitions of physical health or of animal 
 spirits can compensate the man for the injury done him 
 when a child by having been then allowed to con- 
 tract habits of idleness or dissipation. As to playing 
 in the streets, I am fully convinced that it is a prac- 
 tice from which much lasting evil is pretty sure to 
 accrue ; I am, therefore, grateful to my parents for 
 having kept me from so baneful an indulgence, and 
 have always prohibited it in the case of my own 
 children. Yet this necessary precaution on the part 
 of the parents is almost sure to be the occasion of 
 much inconvenience to their children. It was so in 
 my case, and it has been the same in my own family. 
 
 There is a remarkable antipathy on the part of 
 street-playing children against such as are not so, 
 who in general may be easily known by their being 
 less dirty, ragged, or disorderly than are those who 
 are accustomed to roam about the public ways. 
 
 The principal source of this hostility is, I think, 
 Envy ; for there is much of the " Dog in the Man- 
 ger" temper among the indolent, the dirty, and the
 
 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 23 
 
 dissolute poor. They will not take the trouble to 
 secure the advantages arising from industrious, 
 cleanly, and sober habits ; and they would fain pre- 
 vent all others from gaining them. But as they 
 cannot do this, they frequently do all they can to 
 make their more prudent and reputable neighbours 
 as uncomfortable as it may be possible to make them. 
 They will therefore call them by opprobrious names ; 
 charge them with being imitators of the dress or the 
 manners of the rich ; and, moreover, will often go 
 out of their own way and take much pains in order 
 to insult or to injure them. 
 
 Whether I am right or wrong in ascribing this 
 hostile feeling and conduct to the cause above stated, 
 I know not, nor does it much signify. The fact re- 
 mains the same ; for it is certain that the children of 
 the orderly and decent class of poor people are ; in 
 many cases persecuted by those of the opposite 
 class, both as fiercely and relentlessly as is a domes- 
 ticated bird or quadruped when it falls in the way 
 of the untamed and more powerful of its species. 
 
 For several years I suffered much from this mal- 
 treatment, which I certainly never provoked, for I 
 loved peace, and, moreover, had neither strength nor 
 courage enough to warrant my being the aggressor. 
 Yet I was often insulted — and sometimes injured — 
 not only by children of my own size or age, but also 
 by such as were both much bigger and older than 
 myself; and in some instances, by adult persons. 
 I, at length, dreaded going into the streets unpro- 
 tected, as much as some children would have dreaded 
 a severe correction.
 
 24 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAX. 
 
 In stating these matters I am perhaps running the 
 risk of trifling ; yet, as it often happens that — in 
 regard to their bearing and consequences — even 
 "little things are great to little men," so in my case 
 these seemingly trivial matters had an important use. 
 They served to enforce what I had been taught con- 
 cerning the wickedness of doing wrong to others ; 
 while ,they inspired me with a thorough hatred of 
 oppression, injustice, and cruelty. My natural ti- 
 midity would not allow me to join in any game that 
 involved either danger or much difficulty ; while, in 
 consequence of my feeble constitution, I could not 
 engage in any active amusement without being both 
 speedily and painfully fatigued. To these circum- 
 stances I may perhaps attribute a part of ray early 
 indifference to many of the pastimes that usually 
 are so attractive to children. I soon learned to 
 regard even harmless pleasures as not being "worth 
 the pains " of the chace, or of the weariness and 
 other inconveniences by which, in my case, they 
 were always followed. It was thus, I think, that I 
 contracted an early taste for retired habits and quiet 
 amusements ; a taste which has accompanied me all 
 through life, and which has, I believe, been the 
 means of preserving me from many evils, while it has 
 been the instrument of adding very much to my com- 
 fort and well-being. 
 
 My favourite amusements were reading, gardening,* 
 
 ♦ Or rather, playing at gardening, for my ground was so 
 circumscribed that all its stock and produce were little more 
 than would have sufficed for the use of his Lilliputian majesty. 
 But I always loved flowers, and 1 had some, even in this
 
 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 25 
 
 and walking in the adjacent fields and meadows. 
 Of these, however, reading was my chief delight ; for 
 I could avail myself of this the most easily and 
 regularly. I willingly left every other pastime for 
 the sake of a book that suited my taste. And I 
 valued this pleasure the more, because it was only at 
 leisure times that I was permitted to enjoy it. I had 
 not much time at my own disposal, being usually 
 employed in one or other of the ways I have already 
 stated. If it were at knitting, I was forbidden to 
 read until I hiad finished my allotted task. Some- 
 times when I tried to evade this law, I was detected, 
 and severely reprimanded by my mother, whose 
 maxim was, that two distinct things could not both 
 be well done at the same time. At other times I 
 succeeded in gratifying my wishes by getting into 
 some secluded place, where I could avoid observa- 
 tion. In order that I might the better escape de- 
 tection, I took pains to get through my task in due 
 time, and, moreover, was careful to do it well. In 
 these efforts I was generally successful, for, on making 
 the experiment, I found it possible to knit — both 
 quickly and neatly — without having much occasion 
 to look at my work. In this way I beguiled many a 
 tedious hour at the time I am now referring to, and 
 also during several years following, towards the close 
 of which I thus contrived to read ' Robinson Crusoe,' 
 
 diminutive spot : I valued these the higher, because thej'^ were 
 my own, and, moreover, of my own raising. Let not the reader 
 smile when I tell him that my collection was made up chiefly 
 of some heart' s-ease, primroses, and common marigolds, with 
 a little mint, and a few slips of southernwood.
 
 26 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING iMAN. 
 
 and a brief ' History of England,' with some other 
 books whose titles I do not now remember. The books 
 that first fell in my way, besides those that belonged 
 to ray parents, were few, and of little worth. At that 
 time the stock of books within the reach of poor 
 children was very small, while the price of such as 
 were useful was generally higher than poor people 
 could afford. There were then no cheap well-printed 
 neatly bound books on subjects at once instructive 
 and amusing, such as are now so abundantly supplied 
 by benevolent societies and enterprising publishers. 
 The once general prejudice against educating the 
 poor was then very prevalent, while many of the poor 
 had no. wish to be taught. Moreover, the books that 
 were given to them were generally printed badly, 
 and done up in unsightly covers ; while their contents 
 were seldom much more attractive than was their 
 external appearance. It did not in those days 
 seem to be understood that abstract treatises on 
 religious or other serious subjects were not adapted 
 to fix the attention of children and other young per- 
 sons. There was but little recognition of the obvious 
 fact that the human mind needs recreation as well as 
 instruction ; that it desires amusement, and, there- 
 fore, will seek to obtain it from frivolous, if not 
 dangerous sources, in the absence of such as are use- 
 ful and innocent. 
 
 The importance of combining amusement with 
 instruction in bocks intended for the use of little 
 children, was not then sufiiciently estimated ; although 
 the fact itself could not be unknown by all observing 
 and reflecting persons. The surprising tenacity with
 
 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. Zt 
 
 which the memory retains whatever has been learned 
 in childhood, naturally suggests the necessity of 
 taking care that what is then acquired should be 
 worthy of remembrance. For myself, I have now — 
 after an interval of more than forty-five years — a clear 
 recollection of the little books which I read when a 
 child, and which then formed the principal part of a 
 poor child's " Entertaining Library." I can remember 
 all about them, their titles, their contents — and their 
 external appearance. Some, being without covers, 
 were sold for the price indicated in the following 
 laudatory stanza, with which, and a suitable vignette, 
 the title-page of one was embellished : — 
 
 "A very pretty thing 
 For daddy's darling ; 
 Tom Thumb and the piper 
 And all for a farthing.' 
 
 Others were of higher pretensions and prouder aspect, 
 being enclosed in gay covers of party-coloured or 
 gilded paper, and therefore were sold at the compa- 
 ratively large price of a halfpenny. 
 
 It may seem to be little better than trifling to write 
 about farthing or halfpenny histories of ' Tom Thumb,' 
 ' Jack the Giant-killer,' * Little Red Riding-hood,' 
 and the like ; but when it is considered that the hu- 
 man mind generally retains, in mature years, much of 
 the tastes and habits it acquired in childhood, it will 
 not be difficult to believe that important consequences 
 may and often do arise out of circumstances or prac- 
 tices which in themselves are of little worth or mo- 
 ment. 
 
 From much observation, I am led to think that the 
 
 b2
 
 28 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 
 
 preference shown by many persons for such books as 
 treat of wholly fictitious or merely frivolous subjects, 
 to the utter neglect of all such as are instructive and 
 important, is in a great degree owing to their having 
 been, while children, accustomed to read very little 
 besides fabulous and foolish tales. That this per- 
 verted or false taste has an injurious bearing upon 
 their habits and condition, is, I think, too evident to 
 need any laboured proof. In my own case, such 
 books as these did me but little harm, inasmuch as 
 my prevailing desire was to obtain some useful know- 
 ledge ; consequently I was soon satiated with what was 
 adapted only to please a vagrant or a sickly fancy. 
 When I first began to read for amusement, 1 had, as 
 has been hinted, access to but few books that were 
 likely to be useful as well as entertaining. My 
 parent's stock consisted of two Bibles, a Common 
 Prayer Book, a Universal 'Spelling-book,' Watts's 
 ' Divine and Moral Songs,' with some tattered and odd 
 volumes of sermons and other theological disquisi- 
 tions. Among the latter of these was nearly the 
 whole of a huge folio volume, which was then as 
 much beyond my power to handle conveniently as 
 its contents were above my comprehension ; yet, in 
 the absence of more attractive compositions, I some- 
 times read considerable portions of even this giant- 
 sized and uninviting volume. But my attention was 
 chiefly given to the historical and poetical parts of 
 the Bible ; these I read with great interest, but 
 mingled of course with much childish wonder and 
 misapprehension. How much I needed the aid of a 
 competent teacher will be manifest when I state
 
 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAJT. 29 
 
 that, for a long time, I believed the books of " the 
 Kings" and of "the Chronicles" to be unconnected 
 narratives of two distinct series of events ; and also, 
 that the four Gospels were consecutive portions of 
 the history of Jesus Christ, so that I supposed there 
 had been four crucifixions, four resurrections, and the 
 like. I was, indeed, sometimes perplexed by the ap- 
 parently repeated occurrence of events so nearly 
 resembling each other ; nor could I perceive the 
 exact design or bearing of these events ; but I knew 
 no one of whom I could ask for the needed expla- 
 nations. 
 
 I was greatly interested with the biographical no- 
 tices of the patriarchs — among which the history of 
 Joseph and his brethren* attracted my particular at- 
 tention ; but in regard to these also I needed the 
 assistance of a competent expositor and casuist, to 
 illustrate what seemed obscure and to explain what 
 appeared to be wrong in their characters and conduct. 
 I was also much gratified by reading the book of Job, 
 the Psalms, the book of Ecclesiastes, and some of the 
 prophetical books of the Old Testament. The won- 
 
 * This narrative was an especial favourite with my mother 
 also, as I believe it is with all among whom the native power 
 of perceiving what is beautiful is not encumbered with any- 
 artificial theories. The singular beauty of this simple story is, 
 however, ackno*vledged by all descriptions of readers. I have 
 somewhere read that even Voltaire, that most artificial and 
 sophisticated specimen of human nature, gave his opinion in 
 its favour, saying, "I meet with no tale among the Eastern fic- 
 tions comparable to this; in almost every part it is of admira- 
 ble beauty ; and the conclusion draws forth tears of tender- 
 ness. It is more pathetic than Homer's ' Odyssey,' as a for- 
 giving hero is more moving than he that gluts his vengeance."
 
 30 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAX. 
 
 derful events foretold in the latter excited my admi- 
 ration, and sometimes a more grave emotion. I was 
 either much surprised, or elevated, or filled with awe, 
 according as I perused the more wonderful, or 
 beautiful, or sublime portions of these unrivalled com- 
 positions ; although I had but little if any knowledge 
 of their real import. The book of the Revelations 
 inspired me with similar feelings. Of course I under- 
 stood its wonderful narratives and descriptions accord- 
 ing to the literal import of the language employed ; 
 and therefore ray imagination was more powerfully 
 affected than it would have been, had I known it to 
 be highly if not entirely figurative. 
 
 The merely preceptive and the doctrinal parts of 
 the Scriptures did not engage much of my attention 
 until ray thirteenth or fourteenth year ; yet I had 
 read the greater part of them long before that time, 
 and remember to have been much affected by several 
 detached passages — especially by that on the resur- 
 rection of the dead contained in the First Epistle to 
 the Corinthians. 
 
 But I was the most pleased with the poetry of the 
 Bible, and of this I much preferred such parts as are 
 illustrated by imagery drawn from natural scenes and 
 objects; for, as soon as I was capable of observation, 
 I was powerfully affected by natural beauty and sub- 
 limity. The magnificent scenery of the visible hea- 
 vens — both by day and night — filled rae with pleasing 
 wonder; and I was equally delighted, although in a 
 different raanner, with the multitudinous and ever 
 varying beauties of the earth. Each of the seasons 
 was to rae beautiful and therefore a source of plea-
 
 MEMOIRS OP A WORKING MAN. 31 
 
 surable emotions : these, however, were different in 
 the diflPerent seasons ; that is, each season produced 
 its pecuUar and appropriate feehngs. I well remem- 
 ber with what indescribable pleasure I contemplated 
 the return of spring, and how gladly I hailed every 
 indication of its near approach. The early flowers, 
 the first butterfly, the renewed song of birds, the 
 milder temperature of the atmosphere, with the in- 
 creased splendour and warmth of the sun— all these 
 were to me sources of heart-felt "delight and joy." 
 And I hailed the harbingers of the other seasons with 
 no less enthusiasm. I rejoiced to see the full-grown 
 foliage, the tall grass just ready for the mowers 
 scythe, the young of various animals approaching to 
 maturity, with the numerous other objects that be- 
 token the approach of summer. I was, perhaps, yet 
 more glad to see the forerunners of autumn, as this 
 was my favourite season ; partly, I think, because its 
 mild and equal temperature was then, as it now is, 
 grateful to my external senses, but chiefly because 
 <of its being the time when the anxious hopes of the 
 spring and summer months are usually exchanged for 
 fruition. Nor was the approach of winter unwelcome, 
 for it was with pleasure rather than with uneasiness 
 that I looked at the fading face of nature, or listened 
 to the voice of the rude wind, or contemplated the 
 other impressive phenomena that precede its advent. 
 I am no longer susceptible of these lively feelings, 
 yet I am not indifferent to the objects which once 
 excited and nourished them. There are, indeed, mo- 
 ments when I look back with regret upon the time 
 when I could not contemplate nature, whether in its
 
 32 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 
 
 lovelier or its sublimer aspects, without having these 
 emotions awakened to a degree that was sometimes 
 almost painful, because I had no means of giving them 
 utterance. I was a timid, shy, sensitive boy, one 
 whose outward nature alone was associated with sur- 
 rounding persons and objects. The mind and the 
 heart were in solitude. I knew no one to whom I 
 could unveil the thoughts that perplexed the one, or 
 tell of the feelings which frequently oppressed the 
 other. Thus situated, what remained for me but to 
 seek some other medium of giving expression to my 
 speculations and emotions ? I did this, and almost 
 unconsciously fell upon the expedient which is, as it 
 would seem, natural toman — I mean, the composition 
 of verse. I well remember my first effort in this di- 
 rection, when I contrived to string together some 
 twelve or sixteen lines. These were, beyond doubt, 
 sufficiently childish ; but, notwithstanding their puer- 
 ility, I have often wished I had preserved them, 
 merely as a record of the force and tendency of my 
 early emotions. With this temperament of mind, it 
 was natural that I should be much gratified on dis- 
 covering that the Bible would much help me in 
 giving utterance to feelings which, but for its aid, 
 could then find no adequate medium of expression. 
 
 A.t this time I knew but little of the doctrines pro- 
 pounded in the Bible ; I had, however, a somewhat 
 better knowledge of its moral precepts, and could in 
 some degree enter into the spirit of its devotional 
 parts. What I thus learned was, I think, much en- 
 forced by the perusal of that well-known little book 
 Watts':
 
 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 33 
 
 SO much interest as to impress them indelibly upon 
 the memory. From these sources, in connection with 
 such oral instruction as I received, I learned some- 
 thing concerning the first principles of Religious 
 Truth. The amount of knowledge gained was indeed 
 small ; yet it was of much use as a means of qualify- 
 ing me to learn more readily, in afterlife, much that 
 I wished to know upon this weighty subject. 
 
 Until my ninth year I had learned little or nothing 
 of any merely human science, but my ignorance here- 
 in was involuntary, for I had no means of command- 
 ing the sources of knowledge. A series of Pinnock's 
 Catechisms, or of any other simple elementary trea- 
 tises, would at that time have been a treasure of no 
 small value ; but such helps as these were not then 
 in existence. 
 
 As a necessary consequence of my unfavourable 
 circumstances, my notions were for the most part not 
 a little childish ; so much so, indeed, that they did 
 not always satisfy myself. I had in truth many mis- 
 givings as to their correctness, on account of the 
 difficulties or contradictions which they seemed to 
 involve. Thus, for example, I supposed the sky to be 
 a solid surface of a blue colour, with a great many 
 bright spots upon it, of which the sun and moon, as 
 being the largest, naturally attracted my especial at- 
 tention. I of course supposed the sun to be no 
 larger than its apparent size seemed to indicate ; yet 
 I could not comprehend how so small an object should 
 communicate so much light and heat as I perceived 
 it did. Neither could I understand why or how it was 
 that the moon should give light without heat ; and I 
 
 b3
 
 34 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 
 
 was equally at a loss to account for its frequent 
 changes of form, as also for its periodical disappear- 
 ance. 
 
 As to the causes that produce the succession of the 
 seasons, I neither had nor could obtain any infor- 
 mation about them that seemed to be either satis- 
 factory or probable. 
 
 Nor was I better able to ascertain the causes or 
 the nature of many atmospheric phenomena: this, 
 however, I had the less cause to regret, because I was 
 pleased rather than alarmed by storms of thunder, 
 lightning, or wind, unless they were more than usu- 
 ally severe ; but, had I known anything of their im- 
 mediate causes, or of their real nature, this pleasure 
 would have been much diminished. As it was, I 
 had full scope for the play of my childish imagi- 
 nation, whose conjectures, wild and strange as they 
 indeed were, gave me far higher gratification than 
 perhaps I could have derived from a more rational 
 source. 
 
 As to the interchange of day and night, I readily 
 conjectured — what 1 afterwards learned had been 
 taught by eminent philosophers — that it was caused 
 by the revolution of the heavens around the earth. 
 But as I supposed the latter to be only a vast plain, 
 united to the sky at the horizon, I was utterly at a 
 loss to reconcile my theory concerning the motion of 
 the heavens with the notions I held respecting the 
 form and position of the earth. Besides these diffi- 
 culties there were others equally knotty, and which 
 defied all my efi'orts to surmount them ; for I wished 
 to know the thickness of the earth, what it was that
 
 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 35 
 
 supported it, and what was underneath that supporter, 
 and so on : thus my young mind was bewildered, and 
 sometimes vexed or wearied, while it found no way 
 of escape from the labyrinth in which it was entangled. 
 
 Nor was I more happy in my attempts to learn 
 something about the great divisions of the earth's 
 surface. I sometimes heard persons talking about 
 America, the East and West Indies, France, Ireland, 
 and other countries, but as to their situation or any- 
 other particular I could get no satisfactory account. 
 
 There was also a good deal said about the conti- 
 nental countries of Europe, but as they were collec- 
 tively called "the Continent," without any distinctive 
 appellation either to mark what continent was in- 
 tended, or what part was meant of the continent 
 referred to, I of course took the phrase to mean a 
 separate and distinct country, like England ; but none 
 could tell me whether it was so or not, nor whether 
 it was in Europe, Africa, or America. As to Asia, 
 I do not remember to have known that it existed, at 
 any rate under that name, until I learned it from 
 books ; nor until then did I know the distinction be- 
 tween a continent and an island, nor, indeed, whether 
 there was any difference between them. 
 
 I also heard much talk about the American waPj 
 the French revolution, the Irish rebellion, and other 
 public events ; but it was all of the most vague and 
 hearsay character, so that I was but little the wiser 
 for what I heard. Moreover, as regarded the topo- 
 graphy or the history of my own country, I was equally 
 at a loss for the means of getting instruction. I 
 knew neither its position, extent, nor divisions, nor
 
 36 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 
 
 more than a very few of either its natural or its arti- 
 ficial productions. Of its metropolis I heard just 
 enough to excite my wonder, so that for a long time 
 I had not a few extravagant notions respecting its 
 size, wealth, and curiosities. I know not that I heard 
 even the name of any other considerable or remark- 
 able town in England, except that of one which 
 everybody called "Brummagem," and this seemed to 
 owe its celebrity to its being, as was asserted, the 
 place where base copper money was made. The 
 good people of this town have had many and grievous 
 sins laid to their charge, of which I charitably hope 
 they neither were nor are guilty. 
 
 I just knew that there was a king and a queen, a 
 Prince of Wales, judges, bishops, dukes, lords, and 
 the like, and I also understood that there were^two 
 houses of parliament, but as to their respective powers, 
 privileges, or functions, I knew nothing]; nor was I 
 much more enlightened upon the subject of corporate 
 or municipal rights and immunities, for I well re- 
 member being unable to comprehend what was meant 
 when asked whether my father was free of the bo- 
 rough in which we resided. 
 
 Of chronology, viewed as a science, I learned no 
 more than I did of other sciences ; nor do I now re- 
 member either when or how it was that I first got 
 any correct notion respecting dates. The first inci- 
 dent concerning these that I recollect, is the diflSculty 
 I felt in comprehending why the date of 1798, which 
 I had been accustomed to uge in my writing-book, 
 should suddenly be altered into 1799. When this in 
 its turn gave way, and I was told to write that of
 
 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 37 
 
 1800, I think my difficulty was about the same. By 
 the time that 1801 came in, I think I had got some 
 notion why these changes were made. Thus slowly 
 and irregularly did I acquire most of what little I 
 learned in my earlier years. 
 
 In short, with the exception of a little knowledge 
 of the first principles of religion, and of the duties 
 connected with the domestic life of poor people, I 
 continued almost without teaching during a great 
 part of the time in which appropriate instruction is 
 so important to a child, especially to one whose 
 youthful years are destined to be spent in learning to 
 work. This, however, was not through any neglect 
 on the part of my parents, since neither of them had 
 been so far instructed as to be able to teach others : 
 what they did know they readily communicated, and 
 this, although small in amount, always had a useful 
 tendency. 
 
 My thoughts at this period sometimes turned upon 
 myself, and then I encountered new difficulties. 
 With a natural, although childish curiosity, 1 wished 
 to know from whence I came. It seemed strange 
 that I could not remember coming into existence, 
 as, in like manner, I often wondered why I could not 
 remember the moment of falling asleep, although 1 
 had made many efforts to that effect. 1 perceived 
 that I was a living and conscious being, surrounded 
 by other beings of the same kind, placed, without 
 any effort or consent of mine, in a world of whose 
 surface I knew little more than the spot occupied by 
 the town in which I lived. I had, indeed, been 
 taught that this world, with all its productions and
 
 38 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 
 
 its inhabitants, was made by God ; and, moreover, 
 could read for myself the Bible history of the crea- 
 tion and of the primitive condition of man, yet I was 
 not hereby fully satisfied. There were many things 
 that I wished to know, upon which both the Bible and 
 my other instructors were silent. I did not suspect 
 that some of these matters were not necessary to be 
 known, nor that others were beyond the [reach of 
 human knowledge, or I might perhaps have avoided 
 taking much useless and sometimes vexatious trouble. 
 I could form some notion of the manner in which 
 the first man was made, but could not comprehend 
 how I could have been formed by the same being as 
 he was, because I had learned just enough of human 
 history to know that none besides the first parents of 
 mankind were formed by the immediate and sole 
 agency of the Deity. The constitution of my nature 
 also perplexed me. I had been told I was a creature 
 compounded of body and soul. The one I could see 
 and form some notion of, and this more than suffi- 
 ciently tasked my powers, for I could not_ compre- 
 hend the mysteries connected with its structure and 
 motions. But the other I could not see, except in its 
 effects, and I often wished to know something about 
 its origin, its birth, and its constitution, together with 
 the nature and extent of its powers, and the manner 
 of their operation. My wishes were, however, as 
 fruitless as were my speculations^ and of these I may 
 truly say that • 
 
 '• they found no end, in wandering mazes lost." 
 
 As to its future existence in a state of happiness or
 
 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 39 
 
 misery, this was a subject which sometimes occupied 
 my thoughts in a very grave manner ; and although 
 these musings were doubtless alloyed by many childish 
 and erroneous fancies, they yet had a salutary in- 
 fluence upon my affections and conduct.
 
 40 MEMOIRS OF A TVORKING MAN. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 I OUGHT before to have observed that when I was 
 about five or six years old my mother began to keep 
 a dame's school. This obviated the necessity of 
 sending me to a similar school. I became one of her 
 pupils, and was much pleased with my school-fellows. 
 I also gained some profit as well as pleasure by their 
 coming under my mothers care, being thereby enabled 
 to peruse several small books belonging to the chil- 
 dren, which otherwise would not have come in ray 
 way. I thus gathered some additional knowledge, 
 which, although not equal to my wishes, was never- 
 theless useful, as it helped to enlarge my range of 
 thought and to prepare me for ampler instruction at 
 a future time. 
 
 Among these books was a brief abstract of that 
 amusing story 'Robinson Crusoe,' which I read with 
 much eagerness and satisfaction. I only regretted 
 its brevity, for I became so deeply interested in the 
 fortunes of its hero and of his man Friday, that I 
 would fain have read a full account of their adven- 
 tures. This, however, was a gratification reserved 
 for a future time. Another book which thus came in 
 my way was Mrs. Barbaulds ' Hymns for Children,' 
 which I soon perceived to be exactly suited both to 
 my taste and my capacity. Here I met with de- 
 scriptions of rural sceneiy, life, and manners, which
 
 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 41 
 
 delighted and instructed me. The perusal of these 
 simple yet admirable compositions served to heighten 
 the satisfaction with which I even then contemplated 
 the beauty or the grandeur of nature ; I perceived 
 that they enabled me to discover new sources of 
 mental pleasure, and moreover to express my emo- 
 tions in an intelligent and appropriate manner. With 
 these in my hand I remember to have walked in the 
 neighbouring fields and meadows, and to have con- 
 templated the surrounding scenery with great delight. 
 More than forty years have since elapsed, in the 
 course of which I have read much of the best poetry, 
 yet I still remember these unpretending little pieces 
 with undiminished pleasure ; while there are moments 
 in my experience when I would willingly exchange 
 the gratification of reading nobler compositions for 
 the pleasurable emotions with which I first perused 
 these beautiful hymns. 
 
 Perhaps I value them at too high a rate, but hope 
 to be excused herein, when I state that I was indebted 
 to them not only for much innocent and delightful 
 amusement, but also for some important moral les- 
 sons. I therefore look back on them with something 
 resembling the affection and veneration with which 
 one regards an old and valued friend. I must not 
 conclude this notice without heartily commending 
 them to the best attention of the juvenile reader ; 
 they are admirably adapted to improve both the mind 
 and the heart. It was about this time that I first 
 met with Milton's ' Paradise Lost,' in a thick volume 
 with engravings and copious notes, probably a copy 
 of Bishop Newton's edition of that noble poem. I
 
 42 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 
 
 found it, however, to be little better than " a sealed 
 book." Its versification puzzled me, \N'hile the lofti- 
 ness of its subjects confused my understanding. I 
 went on much in the way I have been describing, un- 
 til I was nine and a half years old, when I was sent 
 to school, and thus began what I may call a new era 
 in ray history. Before, however, I enter upon this, I 
 will notice two events, which I omitted to mention in 
 their proper places. 
 
 The first is the great scarcity of wheat and other 
 bread-corn during the year 1800.* This to poor peo- 
 ple was the source of much distress, in which of 
 course I participated. My father's wages were but ten 
 shillings and sixpence per week, and my mother's 
 little school brought from two to three shillings more. 
 With very little besides this scanty income, they had 
 to provide for the wants of themselves and four child- 
 ren, while bread was sold at the enormous price of 
 one shilling and tenpence for the quartern loaf. We 
 were consequently forced to put up with very insuffi- 
 cient fare, and sometimes with that which was rather 
 hurtful than nutritious. Potatoes also were exces- 
 sively dear, and moreover were of bad quality through 
 the wetness of the preceding summer. A quarter of 
 a peck of these, which cost fourpence, with a little 
 
 * This was caused by a very unpropitious harvest- season. 
 I well remember having seen large breadths of corn, which had 
 been cut down, but could not be housed because of the heavy 
 and almost incessant rain. This had been exposed to the wet, 
 yet warm weather, until the grain had sprouted from the ears, 
 to the length of several inches. I was just old enough to know 
 that the consequences would probably be very distressing to 
 poor people.
 
 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAX. 43 
 
 melted suet poured over them, and a very small al- 
 lowance of bread, constituted the dinner of five out 
 of the six persons in the family. The sixth was too 
 young to be able to eat solid food. No white bread 
 was allowed to be made in the town^ nor was the 
 bread made permitted to be sold until it had been out 
 of the oven twenty-four hours. These and other re- 
 gulations were intended to diminish the consumption 
 of wheaten flour. The privations of the poor w^ould 
 have been much more severe, but for the generous 
 and Christian-like sympathy of their wealthier neigh- 
 bours, who distributed three times in each week, dur- 
 ing several consecutive months, large quantities of 
 rice, with good soup and other necessary articles. Of 
 these we had the full share to which our numbers 
 entitled us, and this made an important addition to 
 our otherwise meagre fare. I take pleasure in record- 
 ing my unfeigned gratitude to the benevolent donors. 
 I now turn from a subject which in itself is unpleasing, 
 to one of a more inviting character. 
 
 This refers to the public rejoicings in the town on 
 account of the general peace of 1802. I was much 
 amused with the novel spectacles I then witnessed. 
 The town was generally illuminated ; the streets were 
 filled with people ; the church-bells were ringing ; 
 bonfires were blazing ; and everybody seemed to be 
 happy. For myself, I could almost wish again to be 
 a child, if thereby I could once more feel the light- 
 heartedness which these festivities produced. But 
 there was a subject connected indeed with these re- 
 joicings, but of far greater importance, especially to 
 such as had endured privations through the recent
 
 44 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 
 
 scarcity. This was the great and numerous benefits 
 that were expected to arise from the return of general 
 tranquilHty. " Peace and Plenty " was the motto to 
 many a device exhibited at the illuminations. This 
 had already become the general watchword, and 
 everybody seemed to expect that their hopes of ge- 
 neral and lasting prosperity would soon begin to be 
 realised. In these cheering anticipations I most 
 heartily joined, little suspecting that they were so soon 
 to be cut off by the return of war. Of this un propi- 
 tious event I must now forbear to write, as it is time 
 to give some account of myself while under the care 
 of a schoolmaster. 
 
 The school to which I have referred was supported 
 by a congregation of Protestant Dissenters. It con- 
 sisted of twenty-five boys, who were taught the ele- 
 ments of reading, writing, and arithmetic. They were 
 also partly clothed at the expense of the subscribers. 
 The period for which the boys were admitted was 
 three years. The vacancies in the school were filled 
 up at the close of the year, and it was required of the 
 applicants for admission that they should be able to 
 read in the New Testament to the satisfaction of the 
 managing committee. This regulation involved an 
 ordeal which to me was a rather formidable affair. 
 I dreaded it so much the more because, as I knew 
 but little of its nature or extent, my imagination was 
 at liberty to draw a rather fearful picture. I well 
 remember the subdued feelings with which I wended 
 my way to the place of trial. It was on a winter's 
 evening, when the dreary aspect of everything around 
 me was in keeping with the solemnity of the busi-
 
 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 45 
 
 ness in which I was engaged. It was well lor me that 
 my good mother took me under her wing, as other- 
 wise I should certainly have been confounded when 
 I came before my examiners. 
 
 These worthy but to me awful personages were as- 
 sembled in a large upper room of an ancient inn. 
 They were seated around afire that was blazing cheer- 
 fully, and almost eclipsing the light of the candles, 
 which of themselves would have but just sufficed to 
 make " darkness visible." I was too much abashed 
 to allow of my surveying the room ver)'^ closely ; 
 what I saw of it, therefore, was only by occasional and 
 hasty glances. I observed, however, that the table 
 was well furnished with bottles and glasses, pipes and 
 tobacco, indicating that the company present thought 
 it wise to relieve the cares of business by a little of 
 that which tends to make the heart glad. 
 
 I cannot now remember all who were present, but 
 have a clear recollection of several, among whom was 
 the minister of the congregation, an aged, venerable 
 looking man, whose close-fitting, neatly curled wig, 
 and somewhat antiquated dress, accorded well with 
 his age and character. There was also a worthy 
 gentleman, one of the deacons, whose portly figure, 
 powdered head, and commanding aspect filled me 
 with profound awe. He was, however, a kind-hearted 
 and affable man. I could have spoken without much 
 perturbation to either of these good men, had I met 
 him alone and casually ; but to see them all at once in 
 a strange place, and invested with authority to ques- 
 tion me, was too much for one so timid as I then was, 
 A novitiate monk in the august presence of His Ho-
 
 46 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 
 
 liness and a full conclave of Cardinals, or a presumed 
 heretic at the tribunal of the Inquisition, could hardly 
 feel more discomposed than I did when directed to read 
 aloud in the hearing of my assembled judges. I 
 obeyed this dread mandate with much trepidation, 
 but was enabled to do it so as to escape censure. M}^ 
 mother gave such further information about me as 
 was required : upon which I was unanimously elected, 
 with some expressions of approbation. 
 
 Thus ended my much dreaded trial, to my no small 
 relief and satisfaction ; I had passed through the 
 ordeal unscathed, although much frightened, and I 
 could not but rejoice at my success. 
 
 I was well satisfied with the treatment I had met 
 with from my examiners, but, as a faithful chronicler, 
 I am bound to state that I was not a little puzzled at 
 a part of their proceedings. They were smoking ; 
 and as I had been accustomed to regard this practice 
 as indicative of intemperate or loose habits, I was 
 greatly surprised at seeing " grave and reverend " 
 men like these wielding the ominous tobacco-pipe. 
 Even the minister was thus employed ; — this was the 
 most inexplicable circumstance of all : I afterwards 
 learned that he was an inveterate smoker, which 
 intelligence further increased my perplexity. I 
 feared that all was not right, but I was too poor a 
 casuist to grapple with so knotty a question ; I was 
 therefore compelled to leave it until I should be more 
 equal to the task. 
 
 I went home, however, in good spirits, for I antici- 
 pated both advantage and pleasure from this change 
 in ray circumstances ; nor was I, as the sequel will
 
 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 47 
 
 show, at all disappointed in my expectations. In due 
 time I went to the school-room, where I soon got the 
 better of my natural timidity, at least so far as to>feel 
 prepared. for the proper performance of my duties. 
 The school-room was large enough to have accommo- 
 dated a hundred and twenty boys ; it had, therefore, 
 a somewhat deserted and dreary aspect, especially in 
 winter-time, when the boys were glad to get near 
 the fire, which was liberally provided for their com- 
 fort. The windows of the room opened upon a spa- 
 cious and well-stocked market-garden and nursery- 
 ground. It commanded a rather extensive prospect 
 of the country beyond it. This was to me a very 
 gratifying circumstance, particularly during the fine 
 weather, and I accordingly took some trouble to se- 
 cure a seat close to one of these windows. In this I 
 soon succeeded, and thereby added considerably to 
 my means of enjoyment. I yet remember with plea- 
 sure the many happy hours I spent in sitting apart 
 from the other boys — in whose frolics and tricks I 
 took but little interest — and, while gazing upon the 
 scenes before me, almost losing myself in vague yet 
 delightful anticipations of the happiness which I then 
 hoped to realize even in this life. This, however, 
 has proved to be but a waking dream ; yet was it a 
 dream so delightful, that I could wish to have it re- 
 peated, although at the certain expense of a similar 
 disappointment. 
 
 But I must leave these speculations, and return to 
 my narrative. Here I must briefly notice my two 
 schoolmasters, for there were two, although the school 
 was so small. This arrangement, however, was for
 
 48 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 
 
 the convenience and at the expense of the elder 
 master, whose other avocations frequently called him 
 from home. He was a veiy worthy man, having 
 moreover considerable talent, with much literary and 
 scientific knowledge ; being, however, of a modest, 
 unpretending disposition, and perhaps not fully con- 
 scious of his powers, he made no effort to ascend 
 
 "The steep where Fame's proud temple shines afar." 
 
 Yet I cannot help thinking that a man who could 
 invent a " Theory of Comets,"' measure lances with St. 
 Pierre, and write well upon the science of " Sacred 
 Music," ought not to have spent the whole of his 
 long, virtuous, and useful life in a state of compara- 
 tive obscurity. 
 
 He took no part in teaching the boys, nor did he 
 often come into the school-room, so that I should 
 have known but little of him except for the following 
 circumstances : — Among his other acquirements he 
 had learned the art of surveying land and buildings : 
 being esteemed as an able, worthy man, he was much 
 employed in measuring estates, within a circle of 
 about twenty miles from his residence. Ashe wanted 
 some one to draw the measuring-chain, and to do 
 other little things which a boy could easily perform, 
 he sought for a helper among the boys in the school, 
 when, to my great delight, his choice fell upon 
 myself. 
 
 By this arrangement I soon had opportunities of 
 seeing a little of the adjacent country, of which until 
 then I was almost wholly ignorant. I had never yet 
 been more than four miles from the town, and was
 
 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 49 
 
 very imperfectly acquainted with its outskirts. Ex- 
 cept a few of the fields and meadows close to our 
 dwellinr^, nearly every other place was as new to me 
 as would have been a foreign country. It was, there- 
 fore, quite natural that I should think much of tne 
 j)leasure to which I was so unexpectedly introduced; 
 lor will it seem strange that I should then consider 
 a. journey of fifteen or twenty miles from home as a 
 long one. I will not deny that I eventually regarded 
 r.iyself, in comparison with my compeers, as a tra- 
 veller rather out of the common order; for I could 
 hoast of ha.ving seen several market-towns, a con- 
 siderable number of villages and hamlets, many gen- 
 tlemen's seats, and a yet greater number of farm- 
 I'ouses. In each of these objects there was something 
 new, and therefore pleasing to an observant, inquisitive 
 boy. Our journeys were made in various directions, 
 so that I had opportunities of seeing many new pros- 
 })ect3. Some of these I saw more than once, and at 
 different seasons of the year ; I therefore viewed them 
 under different aspects. The greater number were 
 doubtless v.ithout much beauty, but some of them I 
 Mill consider to have been worthy of my admiration. 
 
 I was also much gratified by the kindness with 
 which I was in general treated by the farmers and 
 < it hers, at whose houses we took up our abode while 
 measuring their lands. In some of these I witnessed 
 much of the true old English hospitality to visitors, 
 together v.ith much of that friendly social intercourse 
 which once so generally prevailed between the farmer 
 and his servants. Many a time have I been served 
 at one meal with more victuals than was needful for 
 
 c
 
 50 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 
 
 a day to a boy of my age and habits ; and in these 
 cases I have been not a little embarrassed, being 
 about equally afraid of displeasing my generous host 
 if I left any orts upon my plate, and of suffering con- 
 siderable inconvenience if I ate the whole of my 
 allowance. My confusion was not a little increased 
 if I fancied that I \Yas noticed while thus hesitating 
 between what I thought was due to good manner?, 
 and .what I ow^ed to my personal ease and comfort. 
 Sometimes I w^as compelled to sacrifice the former, 
 and in one instance was glad that I had the courage 
 so to do, for the good-natured farmer made me easy 
 by letting me perceive that he had helped me so 
 liberally in order to try my ability at the knife and 
 fork. When the grounds w^ere large, and there were 
 more than an ordinary number of difficulties in the 
 way of working quick, it was necessary to employ 
 three or four days in measuring the estate. In these 
 cases, when we happened to be quartered in a house 
 of the old-fashioned sort, our sojourn was very plea- 
 sant to myself, and I could perceive that it was far 
 from being unpleasant to my worthy master. I re- 
 member one of these instances with peculiar satis- 
 faction, because everything bore the aspect of comfort 
 and good feeling ; master, mistress, children, servants, 
 and guests, all sat at the same table, partook freely 
 of the same food, and joined, if they pleased, in the 
 same conversation. In the evenings the scene was 
 to me especially agreeable, for then the labours of 
 the day were done, and the whole household was 
 assembled round a huge fire made upon the hearth 
 the only fires that quite suit either my taste or con- 

 
 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 51 
 
 venience ; there was a spacious and most convenient 
 chimney-corner on each side of the fire, in one of 
 which I sat, much pleased with the novelty of the 
 whole scene, and well satisfied with the good and 
 substantial fare with which I was freely supplied. 
 I slept in the men-servants' room — a dark but warm 
 and comfortable place — where I was happier with 
 my rather unyielding bed of flocks, and ray coverlet 
 of new horse-cloth, overlaid with clean, sweet-smell- 
 ing sacks, than, I dare to say, many a monarch is with 
 all the luxurious accommodations and indulgences of 
 a palace. 
 
 A little before this time I had been reading that 
 entertaining little volume, Miss Taylor's 'Original 
 Poems for Children/ one of which, "The Truant 
 Boys," had particularly gained my attention, and I had 
 partly committed it to memory. While at work on the 
 farm, we had to measure some meadows intersected 
 by a small river, on which, at no great distance, was 
 a water-mill. The scenery so nearly resembled that 
 described in the little poem referred to, as to bring it 
 fully upon ray mind, and I have not yet forgotten a 
 line, after an interval of more than thirty-seven years, 
 daring which I have lost the recollection of number- 
 less matters far more weighty. I name this trifling 
 incident as a further example of the great importance 
 of putting into the hands of children such compo- 
 sitions only as may be remembered with safety and 
 advantage in future years. 
 
 But I must not enlarge further upon these little 
 matters : sufiice it to say that my master was a kind- 
 hearted, considerate man. He always treated me 
 
 c2
 
 52 MEMOIUS OF A Y> OilKING MAX. 
 
 more as a son than as a servant ; permitting me, when 
 we lodged at an inn, and where consequently he 
 bore the charges, to eat and drink of the same fare 
 and to sit at the same table or fireside as he did. 
 He would, moreover, sometimes tell me of such little 
 things respecting the neighbourhood we were in as 
 he thought likely to instruct or amuse a boy like 
 myself. 
 
 On one of our journeys he had occasion to attend 
 the county assizes, which were then being held in a 
 town not far from where his other business had called 
 him : here I saw what was to me truly a novel spec- 
 tacle ; the crowds of people thronging the streets that 
 led to the courts of law and justice— the costume of 
 the barristers, who were bustling to and fro, and 
 whom I mistook for judges — the numerous constables 
 and other guardians of the public peace, together 
 with the magnificence, as I thought it, of the public 
 buildings, all conspired to fill me with admiration. 
 There was but one part of the whole scene which 
 affected me painfully, and that was the files of pri- 
 soners, with fetters upon their legs and chained 
 together like beasts of burden, proceeding from the 
 gaol to the criminal court. I had never before seen 
 human nature in so degraded a state, and the sight 
 gave me a feeling of pain which not all its novelty 
 could remove. 
 
 My good old master continued to employ me while 
 I remained in the school, and also afterwards, until, a 
 desirable opportunity ofFeiing for my learning a trade, I 
 could no longer serve him : he, notv>ithstanding, con- 
 tinued to notice me in his usual kind manner. 3nd I
 
 MEMOIRS OF A V,"OKKING MAN. 53 
 
 was glad whenever I came in his way, for I liad miic'i 
 reason to regard him with gratitude, respect, and 
 veneration. 
 
 He followed his usual avocations until the infirmi- 
 ties of age came upon him and rendered him inca- 
 pable of farther exertion, when he found a quiet and 
 respectable asylum in one of a number of almshouses 
 which a benevolent man of the preceding age had 
 built and liberally endowed for the benefit of aged 
 and decayed tradesmen. Here, as throughout his 
 long and industrious application to business and study, 
 he pursued " the noiseless tenor of his way," until, 
 his earthly course being ended, he was called to a 
 nobler and a happier state of being. 
 
 I take pleasure in thinking about him, and some- 
 times can almost fancy I see his venerable-looking 
 form, his kind and gentle aspect, his simple yet 
 becoming attire, his somewhat curious gait and man- 
 ner, for he had a habit of almost continually shaking 
 his head and shrugging his shoulders ; and I can 
 almost imagine that I yet hear his shrill voice running 
 over, as was his usual practice, some sacred melody, 
 which gave a happy intimation of his mental tran- 
 quillity and enjoyment. 
 
 My other schoolmaster was altogether a different 
 kind of person : he was a good penman, tolerably 
 skilful in arithmetic, and generally attentive to his 
 duties. His proper occupation was that of a shoe- 
 maker, and he was accustomed to fill up his spare 
 lime, during school-hours, by making or mending 
 shoes. Unhappily he was too fond of strong drink, 
 and was often more than half intoxicated, but con-
 
 o4 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 
 
 trived to conceal this from the other master. When 
 he was in this state he was very ill-tempered, and 
 was guilty of administering undeserved correction : 
 he did this, moreover, with much severity and indis- 
 cretion. I yet retain a clear recollection of his 
 having, when half inebriated, severely punished me 
 with a heavy leather strap upon the palms of ra}' 
 hands. The occasion of this punishment was a very 
 trifling one : I had written as an exercise the word 
 "hyperbole;" on showing him my waiting, he pro- 
 ceeded to flog me in the way I have described, and 
 that too without telling me where or how I had done 
 wrong. I felt at the time that I was very unfairly 
 treated, and I still think that I might have been far 
 more mildly corrected even had I been blameable. 
 
 This incident made an indelible impression upon 
 my mind, and produced one or two rather curious 
 efl^ects in regard to my association of ideas ; during 
 many years from that time I felt an invincible dislike 
 to the luckless word which had been the innocent 
 occasion of my sufferings. Even to this day I am re- 
 minded of them whenever I dehberately use this word. 
 Nor is this all, for it were no hyperbole to affirm that 
 the formidable leather strap " in gorgon terrors clad" 
 is still occasionally brought to my remembrance, 
 especially when I see a similar weapon. But though 
 I have not forgotten the punishment, I have long ago 
 forgiven my master, of whom, except in this instance, 
 I had no cause to complain. My chief reason for 
 noticing his faults is that I may by this example 
 show the necessity there is that all who have the 
 care of young people should be able to govern them-
 
 MEMOIRS OF A WOKKIXG MAN. 55 
 
 selves : any deficiency here will be very unlikely to 
 escape the notice of their pupils, who will soon learn 
 to despise such as are wanting in self-respect. The 
 consequences which naturally follow from this state 
 of things are too obvious to need pointing out. 
 
 My master took pains to teach me, and the more 
 so because he saw^ that I was willing to be taught. 
 I was, indeed, resolved to learn all I could, and 
 therefore was not satisfied with merely getting 
 through my allotted tasks, but voluntarily went be- 
 yond them, especially in arithmetic. Whenever I 
 was unable to get on without assistance, I asked, and 
 always obtained, my master's help: by these means 
 I eventually became superior to my schoolfellows 
 in regard to writing and figures, and as I was also 
 tolerably clever at orthography and reading, I was 
 promoted to the first seat on the first form, thus 
 becoming what was called " head boy." I naturally 
 considered this to be a station of considerable dignity, 
 and now suspect that I failed to bear it " so meekly " 
 as I might have done, for I soon perceived s37raptoms 
 of ill-will in some of my compeers, which probably 
 was provoked as much by my own imprudence as 
 by their envy at my success ; yet if I was proud of 
 my superiorit)^ I certainly was not selfish, for I freely 
 helped any boy who requested it : sometimes, indeed, 
 I did this at the risk of displeasing my master. I re- 
 member his once getting behind me when I was thus 
 engaged, in order that he might see to what extent I 
 was giving help ; it so happened that I was only 
 giving some general directions, or I should probably 
 have again felt the weight of the leather strap, and
 
 56 :vi£:jcif..-j of a wor^KiNG MAr:. 
 
 perhaps rather severely, as my master would hav?) 
 been smarting from a sharp blow on the face whic'i 
 he received by my suddenly throwing my head back- 
 wards while he was looking over my shoulder. 
 
 Once in each week we were required to commit (o 
 memory a rather large portion of ' The Assembly's 
 Catecliism :' tliis for a time gave me some trouble, 
 which put me upon making several experiments iu 
 order to see whether I could not lessen it. Afttr a 
 failure or two, I hit upon a plan which fully answered 
 jny purpose : the time for repeating this lesson ws.s 
 oaturday morning, and as 1 wished to have all pos- 
 sible opportunity for reading v/hat was then more 
 entertaining than a catechism, I wanted to defer 
 studying it as long as might be prudent : my plan 
 was to leave it until Friday afternoon, when after 
 getting through my other business I sat down to this, 
 and read it over again and again until I had got a 
 general idea of the whole ; I then exercised myself 
 by trying to repeat it from memory, referring to my 
 book only when I was at a loss. This I continued 
 to do at short intervals until bed-time, when I real 
 it over, and afterwards repeated it as v.'ell as I could 
 until I fell asleep. On the following morning I in- 
 variably found that I could go through it botli 
 readily and correctly, so that I had no further trouble 
 about this part of my duties. 
 
 In general I could easily get through my after- 
 noon's work in less than an hour, while the usi:al 
 time for being in the schoohoom was three hours. 
 I thus had full two hours of spare time, which I 
 continued to spend very pleazanlly, and perhaps v.se-
 
 MEMOIES OF A V/OKKING MAN. iji 
 
 fully: my main object was indeed amusement, but 
 the recreation I chose was, I think, instructive also ; 
 this was reading, for which 1 had now greater fa- 
 cilities than formerly. I borrowed such books as I 
 could from my schoolfellows, but sometimes found 
 this to be an unsatisfactory plan : on one occasion 
 ( wished to read a book, which, however, the owner 
 would not let me have without a pecuniary con- 
 sideration ; I therefore hired it for a stipulated time, 
 but shortly after I had paid him, which was at the 
 tim.e of hiring, he reclaimed it, and refused to return 
 the money : I was indignant at his injustice, but 
 there was no remedy, for he was strong enough to 
 enforce the law of " might" against that of " right," 
 and therefore I quietly submitted, although I was 
 sorely grieved at being hindered from using 'The 
 liOoking-glass for the Mind,' and the more so be- 
 cause I had hired the book at the expense of all 
 my cash, amounting to no less a sum than three 
 hralfpence. 
 
 This incident taught me to be more circumspect 
 in making bargains with schoolfellows, by none of 
 whom was I afterwards thus defrauded, either of 
 pence or pleasure. 
 
 My ill-success in borrowing of the boys served to 
 strengthen ray purpose of applying to my master. 
 On my asking him he readily granted my request, 
 nor did he ever revoke his grant : the books were 
 chiefly old and odd volumes of the ' Arminian ' and 
 the 'Gentleman's' Magazines; these, though of but 
 little intrinsic value, were to me a treasure, as they 
 helped to give me a wider and more varied viev; 
 
 c3
 
 o8 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 
 
 of many things than I had previously been able to 
 command. I perused them very much in the way 
 of those undiscriminating readers who devour 
 
 '' The total grist unsifted, husks and all/' 
 
 Yet as there was nothing deleterious in the aliment, 
 its somewhat heterogeneous character was perhaps 
 rather beneficial to my mental constitution than 
 otherwise, in like manner as bread made from un- 
 sifted meal in some cases more suitable to the 
 stomach than that which is composed wholly of 
 finer flour. I was then desirous of knowing a little 
 upon a variety of subjects, and the miscellaneous 
 contents of a magazine were well adapted to meet 
 both my wishes and my wants. Perhaps it was 
 partly owing to my perusing these volumes in the 
 way 1 did that I contracted that omnivorous, per- 
 haps morbid, appetite in regard to reading, which, 
 not seldom, I have endeavoured to appease by very 
 uncouth or uninviting fare ; such, for example, .as 
 treatises upon law or medicine. I once had recourse 
 to a dish of anatomical reading, and actually got 
 through the whole, consisting of four large volumes, 
 I thus contrived to draw refreshment, if not nutri- 
 tion, from very unpromising sources, during several 
 years. There was, indeed, hardly any species of lite- 
 rary composition from which I could not manage to 
 get some amusement, if not instruction ; and although 
 from prudential motives I have long ceased to read 
 in this indiscriminate manner, I yet retain a strong 
 inclination to look through the whole of every book 
 or paper that comes in my way, and have no doubt
 
 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. o9 
 
 that I should, were time allowed me, daily go through 
 the entire mass of advertisements, as well as all the 
 other contents, of that mammoth among newspapers, 
 a double ' Times.' 
 
 I continued to go on jn the way I have described 
 during the remainder of my school -going time. In 
 plain writing and also in arithmetic I acquitted ray- 
 self respectably : as to reading aloud I was able to 
 get on tolerably well, but wanted to be taught some- 
 thing more of pronunciation and emphasis ; these, 
 however, were matters to which the master gave but 
 little attention, so that I learned almost nothing about 
 them while I continued at school. 
 
 In after years I endeavoured to supply this defect, 
 not however by the aid of a professed teacher, but 
 by observing the way in which public speakers of 
 reputation pronounced the words respecting which I 
 needed instruction. I also derived much assistance 
 herein from reading poetry, as I here found it neces- 
 sary to observe how certain words required to be 
 spoken in order to preserve the measure or harmony 
 of the composition. 
 
 Of grammar neither myself nor my schoolfellows 
 were taught anything, except to repeat by rote the 
 brief grammatical exercises contained in the 'Uni- 
 versal Spelling-book ;' but, as the master gave no 
 explanation of these, either as to their nature or use, 
 they were nearly if not quite unintelligible to his pu- 
 pils. For myself, I could not comprehend why we 
 were made to spend time, which I could have used 
 much more pleasantly, about what seemed to be quite 
 as useless as it was uninteresting. I have since then
 
 60 MEMOIiiS OF A V.OliKi:,'G MAlJ. 
 
 thought that the master was himself ignorant of 
 grammar, and that his only motive I'or giving us all 
 this extra work was that he might keep us employed. 
 If he had apprised me of the great utility of gram- 
 matical knowledge, I think I should have made an 
 effort to acquire it ; but as I heard nothing upon this 
 head, I regarded the whole subject as being unim- 
 portant, while some of its parts, such as the declension 
 of nouns and the conjugation of verbs, seemed to be 
 little better than mere nonsense. 
 
 I thus remained wholly ignorant of the construc- 
 tion of my native tongue, until the proper time for 
 being instructed therein was gone by; for, although 
 in after years I endeavoured to leain a little upon 
 this subject, I made but small progress, as both my 
 hands and head were then fully employed upon more 
 imperative matters. The result has been, that I have 
 continued to this day a mere novice in regard to this 
 important branch of knowledge. 
 
 We were allowed two holidays in the year, each of 
 three weeks' duration, one at Christmas, and the other 
 in the harvest-time. The latter was given in order 
 that we might have opportunity for gleaning corn in 
 the adjacent fields. This, however, my parents would 
 not allow their children to do, being of opinion that 
 there was no real advantage accruing from it, except 
 where people had no other employment. I do net 
 now regret that I was otherwise employed during 
 these holidays, although at the time I should perhaps 
 have preferred gleaning before knitting stockings, 
 which was my usual work when away fiom school. 
 If, hovs-ever, I had been allov.-ed to choose betwixt
 
 MEMOIRS OF A WOUKIl^rG MAN. 61 
 
 having or not having holidays, I should have decided 
 for the latter, as I was more willing to be at school 
 than is usual with young people. 
 
 I have already stated that the scholars were partly 
 clothed. This clothing consisted of coats, breeches, 
 and caps ; the two fii-st named being made of green 
 baize with bright metal buttons, and the last of green 
 v^orsted, with a scarlet-coloured tassel and band. 
 When I put on these clothes for the first time, I am 
 free to confess that my hitherto slumbering vanity 
 suddenly started up and inspired me v.ith rather lofty 
 notions concerning my personal appearance. I clearly 
 remember the pleasurable feeling with which I then 
 set out for school, arrayed in my best trim, with a 
 nosegay fixed in a button-hole of my coat, while 1 
 doubted not that my dress was as much admired by 
 others as it was by myself. But these gratifying 
 thoughts and pleasant feelings were very short-lived ; 
 as I soon perceived that I was neither a h.appier ncr 
 a more important personage than before. Thus ended 
 my pride of dress, for I have never since been a})!e to 
 derive pleasure from this source, and can account for 
 the generally prevailing vanity of grown persons, in 
 regard to apparel, only upon the principle expressed 
 by the poet, that 
 
 "Men are hut childreu of a jaTirer i^rov/lh."
 
 62 MEMOIRS OF A WOKKIAG MAN. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 I HAVE before hinted that when I was at home I 
 had but httle time for amusement. But what leisure 
 I could command was spent pleasantly enough in 
 either reading or gardening. I found much pleasure 
 in the latter pursuit, and, therefore, spared no pains 
 to bring my little plot of ground into a good condi- 
 tion. My father was a rather clever practical gar- 
 dener, although he knew but little of scientific gar- 
 dening. But he was fond of the occupation, and 
 would rise with the sun, during even the longest 
 summer days, in order that he might have time to 
 tend his flowers and culinary plants before he w^ent to 
 his daily labour, to which he set out at five o'clock. 
 In the evenings he was generally employed in a simi- 
 lar manner. 
 
 By means of much good management, his garden 
 became what I then thought to be a beautiful spot, 
 and I still think it to have been creditable to my 
 fathers industry and skill. 
 
 He usually contrived to have a good stock of cu- 
 cumber-plants, which he tended w^ith especial care, 
 and was in general very successful, the produce being 
 both large and of a fine quality. 
 
 He also took much interest in the cultivation of 
 flowers. He had not indeed many different kinds,
 
 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 63 
 
 but what he had were generally healthy and beauti- 
 ful specimens of their respective species. 
 
 In the management of my own miniature garden I 
 thus had the benefit of ray father's example, of which 
 I availed myself to the best of ray ability. I accord- 
 ingly stocked my ground with as many flower-roots 
 and plants as it could well hold; and subsequently 
 had the pleasure of seeing them turn out well. I was 
 particularly gratified when I could^ exhibit a small 
 yet perfect specimen of 
 
 " the prickly and green-coated gourd." 
 
 In keeping my garden free from weeds I was exceed- 
 ingly particular, as I was also to prevent its soil from 
 forming itself into clods. But out of this latter nice- 
 ness arose an evil which I had not foreseen; for as 
 the soil was rather heavy, it would, soon after being 
 watered, form itself into a hard unbroken crust, which 
 was quite as unsightly as were the clods, and more- 
 over quite as difficult to put right. 
 
 Among my other gardening exploits I must not 
 omit to mention that of raising several kinds of 
 herbs, such as mint, thyme, rosemary, and southern- 
 wood, from slips or cuttings placed in bottles of water, 
 until they formed roots large enough to allow of their 
 being put into the ground. Let not the reader smile 
 at my ignorance or simplicity when I state that I then 
 regarded this method of raising herbs as a discovery 
 of my own. I certainly did thus regard it, and with 
 some reason, for I knew nothing concerning it, until 
 I perceived that a cutting of southernwood which I 
 had thus put into a phial was throwing out a profu-
 
 64 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAX. 
 
 sion of roots, at which I was both surprised and 
 elated. As I turned my discovery to a practical use, 
 I found less difficulty than before in raising such 
 herbs as are propagated by cuttings. 
 
 There were some other amusements to which also 
 I was inclined, and of which I will give a brief ac- 
 count, trusting to the reader's forbearance while I act 
 the child a little longer. Among these was one 
 v.hich was supplied by a community of ants whose 
 place of abode was in a crevice at the top of an old 
 wall that bounded my father's garden. Hither I often 
 1 esoi ted to watch the movements of these very curious 
 insects. I was much amused with their seemingl}- 
 intelligent methods of proceeding with their work. 
 Tlie regularity with which they closed the entrance 
 1o their habitation in the evening, and opened it in 
 the morning, was to me a curious fact, as also was 
 that of their shutting it up just before rain, and open- 
 ing it soon after the rain ceased. I was much sur- 
 prised at the rapidity and completeness with which 
 these operations were effected, and equally so at the 
 good order which they maintained both in these and 
 other matters. 
 
 What I then observed of these remarkably saga- 
 cious creatures prepared me the more readily to be- 
 lieve the accounts I have since read of their woiider- 
 lul instincts and habits. That they are carnivorous 
 I inferred from the fact of their invariably drawing 
 into their haunts the dead flies and other insects with 
 which I frequently supplied them. That they more- 
 over have a ready and certain method of communicat- 
 ing intelligence I concluded, from observins: that
 
 MEMOIRS OF A VrORKII^TG MA^. C5 
 
 when a solitary ant fell in with the food I had laid in 
 the neighbourhood of the colony, it would first en- 
 deavour to draw it home without help, but if it were 
 unable to do this it would go away, and shortly after- 
 wards several others would make their appearance, 
 by whose united and apparently systematic exertions 
 the work was both judiciously and quickly accom- 
 plished. 
 
 Another of my favourite outdoor amusements was 
 to repose in the shade in the noon-tide of the hot 
 summer days, and watch the flight of the swallows, 
 whose lapid movements and varied evolutions would 
 sometimes astonish me. I was equally pleased with 
 their note, which, though it is both shrill and mono- 
 tonous, is, I think, not unpl easing, especiall}' when 
 heard in the stillness of a summer's noon. I know 
 not how it may affect others, but with me it has ever 
 had the effect of tranquillizing my feelings. On this 
 account, among others, this bird is among my fa- 
 vourites of the feathered tribes. 
 
 Nor must I forget the rooks, of which a colony was 
 settled near to our dwelling. The cawing of these 
 birds, tliough unpleasant to most people, has ahvays 
 been a souiee of pleasing emotion to myself. At the 
 time here referred to, I was mucli accustomed to 
 watch their motions and habits, some of which are 
 not a little curious, and are well worth observing by 
 every one who can sympathise with the enjoyments 
 of the lower animals. I could even now derive 
 much enleitainment from observing the movements 
 of these birds, especially while engaged in building 
 or repairing their nests, when all is noise, bustle, and
 
 66 MEMOISS OF A WORKING MAI,'. 
 
 industry through the whole community. Many a 
 time have I been highly diverted with their contests 
 about a twig, which, after being equally claimed by 
 two or more of the architects, has in the heat of the 
 contest been dropped to the ground, and thus made 
 it necessary that each should go in quest of another. 
 I may as well add here that I have frequently found 
 these aerial quarrels to be useful, having thereby been 
 enabled to increase the stock of fallen twigs which I 
 was collecting for household use. Whether by rook- 
 law I had a right _ to these nest-building materials, 
 I know not ; but as they fell upon the king's highway, 
 and, moreover, were never reclaimed by their pro- 
 prietors, I hope that I committed no great offence in 
 thus appropriating the property of my feathered 
 neighbours. 
 
 Ere I pass on, I will just notice one or two more of 
 my juvenile recreations. One of these was to place 
 myself in a reclining posture, and look up into the 
 clear blue sky, which, especially when its uniformity 
 was relieved by a few fleecy clouds, was to me a 
 beautiful spectacle. It suggested the elevating idea of 
 an ascent without a summit, while it seemed to lead to 
 another world — a brighter and happier one than this. 
 At other times I found pleasure in contemplating 
 the reflection of the sky and the clouds, as shown in 
 a vessel of clear water. Here the idea of a descent 
 without a bottom would sometimes present itself to 
 my imagination, and so forcibly as almost to make 
 me recoil from the object that produced it. Yet 
 there was an undefinable charm about this visionary 
 scene, which prompted me to survey it again. I
 
 MEMOmS OF A WORKING MAX. 67 
 
 have sometimes done this mitil it seemed to be a 
 reaUty, and I have wished it were possible to explore 
 the "vast profound." 
 
 My father used to raise '& good number of the 
 climbing beans familiarly called "scarlet runnei-s," 
 which he so trained as to make them form a rude 
 arbour. This supplied me with a very convenient 
 retreat in my leisure hours, as here I could be free 
 from interruption. I spent many a pleasant hour in 
 this quiet nook, employed in my favourite amuse- 
 ment. Among the few books at my command was 
 a borrowed copy of Hervey's ' Meditations,' a book 
 well adapted to please the youthful imagination. It 
 pleased mine greatly. Its florid style, although a 
 fault, I much admired, and cannot but think that it 
 was useful in helping to qualify me for perusing in 
 an intelligent manner the far more correct and 
 elegant writings of other authors. Among these I 
 ma)^ name Young and Thomson, whose principal 
 poems not long afterwards came into my hands. 
 
 Here I must dismiss the subject of amusements, and 
 turn to matters of business. When the time of my 
 going to school was ended, the question arose how 
 I should be disposed of so as to be made useful. I 
 was much too feeble to be put to any very laborious 
 occupation, while my parents were too poor to be 
 able to apprentice me to any suitable trade. Thus 
 there seemed to be no good prospect in regard to my 
 future lot. I was indeed still young, being not more 
 than twelve and a half years old ; yet I felt that it 
 vv'as high time to be learning something by which to 
 get a living. After much thousfht it occurred to me
 
 G8 JuEMOir.S OF A V.GKKIN'G MAN. 
 
 1hat I might perhaps obtain one in the capacity of a 
 domestic servant. 
 
 To this occupation therefore my wishes were di- 
 rected, but no situation could for a time be procured, 
 ^feamvhile my mother kept me employed in the 
 usual way ; besides which I undertook the task of 
 teaching my sister the elements of writing and arith- 
 metic. I also endeavoured to carry on the work of 
 self-instruction, both in these and other respects. 
 Yet, as I saw that neither of these exercises would 
 procure me a maintenance, I was but "ill at ease" 
 ia regard to either present circumstances or future 
 prospects. 
 
 xA.t length, with the consent of my parents, I went 
 cut to seek employment. I did this, however, with 
 much diffidence, being conscious of my inability to 
 do any work that required either much strength or 
 skill. After some fruitless inquiries, I at length suc- 
 ceeded in getting employment. This was to look 
 after some horses that were feeding off the hedge- 
 rows in a potato-field. They were tethered to the 
 hedge, and my duty was to tether them in a fresh 
 place when they had eaten all the forage witliin their 
 reach. I managed to do tins pretty well, although at 
 lirst with much timidity, as I was but little ac- 
 quainted with the art of managing horses. Ere long, 
 however, I acquired some courage, and, in the end, 
 more than was consistent with discretion, for on un- 
 tethering one of the horses in order to give him fresh 
 pasturage, it came into my head that I should like to 
 ride him for a short time. The wish was soon fol- 
 lov/ed by a determination to gratify it, and accord-
 
 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAX. C9 
 
 ingly I mounted him. He was a powerful beast, 
 and, as I soon discovered, of a vicious temper. As I 
 had never been on a horse's back, 1 was ill prepared 
 to control an animal like this, if he became restive, 
 especial]}' as I had only a halter to hold liim by. The 
 result was, that he quickly threw me off, and ran 
 away, leaving me much frightened, but not so severely 
 hurt as I might have expected to be. The horse 
 remained at liberty until my master came into the 
 field. I was mildly reproved for my fault, and re- 
 tained in my employment until all the hedge-rows 
 were fed off, when I was discharged. From this 
 adventure I learned a little prudence, which was of 
 great use to me when subsequently it became a part 
 of ray duty to attempt managing a hoi-se. 
 
 Seeing my ill success, my parents resolved to wait 
 patiently until some suitable occupation could be 
 procured for me ; I therefore continued to perform 
 my usual duties, with no other variety than that of an 
 occasional journey with my worthy master, when he 
 went from home on his land-measuring business. 
 
 At length, however, a place was found for me, to 
 which I went on July 1, 1805, at which time [ was 
 not quite thirteen years old. Here I continued until 
 I was qualified to be my ov/n master. My going to 
 this situation I regard as having been by far the most 
 important incident of my early years, inasmuch as all 
 my subsequent experience took its general complexion 
 therefrom. Perhaps, therefore, I may be forgiven if 
 I soniewha,t minutely describe its duties. 
 
 My master was a woollen-draper, in a good way of 
 business. He also carried on the trade of a tailor,
 
 70 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 
 
 but as he did not understand this, he employed a man 
 to manage it for him. My wages were three shillings 
 and sixpence per week, and I had a few trifling per- 
 quisites, which might amount to about fourpence 
 more. My parents provided me with food, clothing, 
 and lodging, so that my remuneration was small, con- 
 sidering the amount of labour I had to give in ex- 
 change. My duties were neither few nor pleasant ; 
 for I was expected to be ready at the call of not fewer 
 than twenty-one persons, namely, my master and mis- 
 tress, five children, two maid-servants, a shopman, 
 two apprentices, a foreman, and eight journeymen. 
 I hardly need say that I always found it difficult and 
 sometimes impossible to please this large number of 
 people. I honestly endeavoured to please all, but in 
 my well-meant efforts to do this I often, like the old 
 man in the fable, failed to satisfy any one, and con- 
 sequently was in rather general disgrace, to my great 
 discomfort and discouragement. 
 
 I eventually saw that I had been toiling at a hope- 
 less task, and therefore resolved thenceforth to do 
 the best I could, without troubling myself about the 
 consequences. 
 
 I soon perceived the propriety of this resolution, 
 as thereby I gained an increase of personal comfort, 
 while I gave quite as much satisfaction as before, to 
 all such as were not unreasonable in their demands. 
 My first care was to please my master and mistress, 
 who W'Cre very exact in all their affairs ; but as I 
 always had a strong predilection for order and regu- 
 larity in everything with which I was concerned, I 
 found no great difficulty in pleasing them.
 
 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 71 
 
 The children were not backward in claiming ray 
 services, yet I had no reason to complain of the man- 
 ner in which they treated me. One of them, indeed, 
 treated me with remarkable kindness, both then and. 
 subsequently, as I shall have occasion to notice in the 
 sequel. 
 
 The maid-servants were worthy persons, for whom 
 I readily did all the little services I could, and thus 
 secured not only their good will, but also their active 
 kindness, for they frequently gave me what was very 
 acceptable to a hungry boy. I had but little encourage- 
 ment to serve the shopman and apprentices further than 
 I was obliged, for they often made me do nearly all 
 their share of the shopwork, while they were either 
 quite idle or employed about some trifling matter. 
 
 The tailors were rough masters, but in general they 
 were not unreasonable. Most of them, including the 
 foreman, were very ignorant men; while all were, 
 more or less, of dissolute habits. As my chief occu-- 
 pation was in matters connected with the tailoring 
 business, I was necessarily much in the workshop, 
 where usually I saw and heard not a little of what was 
 either foolish or wicked. 7 
 
 It was truly, as all such places are, a perilous , 
 school for an inexperienced boy, and the consequences 
 might have been injurious to my future welfare had , 
 I been predisposed to what I here either witnessed 
 or heard commended. I believe that I escaped with 
 but little moral injury ; yet I was often much per- 
 plexed by the effect produced upon me by the ob- 
 scene and profane language which I so frequently 
 heard. As to the latter, I was a good deal disturbed
 
 72 MEMOIIIS OF A VrORKING MAX. 
 
 about it, for several months after I was first accus- 
 tomed to hear it. The oaths I heard in the shop 
 •seemed to be almost incessantly soimding in my ears, 
 imtil I began to suspect that I was making them my 
 own. This troubled me much, for I really feared an 
 oath. After some time, however, I was less painfully 
 affected in this way ; but I then encountered another 
 difliculty. I perceived that I could hear the most 
 awful curses and imprecations without being much 
 shocked, and I attributed this want of feeling if not 
 to a concealed approbation of swearing, yet to an 
 inadequate sense of its encrm.ity. 
 
 I subsequently discovered that my seeming indif- 
 ference arose from a cause over which 1 had little if 
 any control, namely, the force of habit, under the influ- 
 ence of which I have since then often heard unmoved 
 the mo.st fearful oaths that perhaps it is possible for 
 either man or demon to utter. Yet I have always 
 deprecated the use of profane language. 1 have in- 
 deed ever regarded it as being equally senseless and 
 wicked; and, moreover, can safely affirm that I have 
 never allowed myself to use one, nor for many years 
 past any asseveration stronger than Yea or Nay, unless 
 when required to swear judicially. 
 
 1 will just add here, that there are many v/orthy 
 people who unconsciously use highly exceptionable 
 phrases. Tiiey would no longer allow themselves to 
 say "'zounds," " *ods-pottikins,"' " "sdeath," and such 
 like words, did they but know that under this unmean- 
 ing and, as they imagine, harmless jargon, there are 
 concealed some of the profanest a.nd mosL revolting 
 expressions that can possibly be uttered.
 
 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. t 3 
 
 Obscene discourse I equally dislike ; it has indeed 
 been the object of "my most implacable disgust" 
 even from my early years. I have heard so much of 
 both this and of profane swearing, that I now " hate 
 them with a perfect hatred." 
 
 I have said that my duties were numerous as well 
 as onerous. This will be manifest when I state the 
 various items which entered into the account of each 
 day's labour. My regular working-hours were from 
 five o'clock in the morning until alter sunset during 
 summer, and from daybreak until about nine o'clock 
 in the evening during the winter, abating half an hour 
 at breakfast-time and an hour for dinner. But when 
 work was plentiful or was wanted by any given time, 
 I was required to be at the shop both earlier and later 
 than the hours here named. My first business in the 
 morning was to sweep the workshop, kindle the fire 
 used for heating the pressing-irons, sift coals and 
 cinder-ashes in order to get coal-dust and cinders 
 for fuel, clean several dozens of knives and forks, and 
 sometimes assist in opening and cleaning the woollen- 
 drapery shop. When I had got through these jobs it 
 was time to get my breakfast. After I had done this, 
 I was generally employed by the tailors in fetching 
 the irons, tending the fire in which they were heated, 
 matching cloth or trimmings, brushing clothes, or 
 cleaning buttons. I was also frequently sent out 
 with parcels of cloth or with clothes ; in fact, I was 
 kept almost incessantly occupied until dinner-time. 
 My afternoon's duties were not much different from 
 those of the morning, either in number or kind, ex- 
 cept that I was then sent, perhaps several times, to the
 
 74 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 
 
 public-house to get beer for the tailors. Sometimes I 
 was sorely annoyed by this extra duty, not only be- 
 cause I disliked their half-diunken frolics, but also 
 because I was hereby deprived of nearly all the little 
 leisure which fell to my lot ; the time for this, when it 
 did offer, being commonly in the latter part of the 
 afternoon, which was just the time that the men chose 
 for their drinking bouts. After they had left work 
 it was my further duty to shut up the shop, put out 
 the fire, and take home such garments as were wanted 
 by the customei-s. Before I could get through these 
 matters it was high time to get my supper, and pre- 
 pare for bed. 
 
 It will hence appear that I had but little time to 
 spare for my own use. This, however, was a priva- 
 tion which, of all others, I was the least willing to en- 
 dure. I wanted a little reading time, and as I had 
 none allowed me, I determined upon making some. 
 For this purpose I arose eai'lier from bed, read while 
 v;alking or eating, and took care not to waste the 
 spare minutes which sometimes fell to my lot in the 
 course of my working-hours. By these means I saved 
 more time in the aggregate than I had previously 
 thought to be possible. It was indeed made up of 
 fragments, yet 1 contrived to make it answer ray pur- 
 poses. I had been made the more anxious to get 
 some spare time, because seveial books which I had 
 not before seen now fell in my way. This was through 
 the courtesy of my young master, whose kindly feel- 
 ing I have already noticed. He now gave me free 
 access to his little library, in which were Enfield's 
 • Speaker,' Goldsmith's ' Geography,' an abridged ' His-
 
 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. tO 
 
 tory of Rome,' a ' History of England,' Thomson's 
 'Seasons,' ' The Citizen of the World,' ' The Vicar of 
 Wakefield,' and some other books the titles of which 
 I do not now remember. 
 
 These books furnished me with a large amount of 
 amusing and instructive reading. I perused each of 
 them with much interest, but especially the ' Seasons.' 
 I found this to be just the book 1 had long wanted. 
 It commended itself to my warmest approbation, im- 
 mediately on my perceiving its character and design. 
 I do not go beyond the truth when I state that the 
 perusal of this volume was of great use to me in the 
 way of preserving me from the depraved tastes and 
 habits of those with whom my duty compelled me to 
 associate. W^hen I was about fifteen years old, I 
 bought a miniature copy, which from that time until 
 I had reached the age of twenty years I usually kept 
 in my pocket. It was my custom to read each poem 
 in that season of the year to which it refers, as thereby 
 I could the more fully enter into its spirit, and the 
 more easily remember what I read. 
 
 With the exception of the Bible, I know not that I 
 ever read any other book so attentively and regularly. 
 Its beautiful descriptions of nature were delightful to 
 my imagination, while its fine moral reflections — its 
 earnest dissuasives from vice — and its persua.sive ex- 
 hortations to virtue, were, as I believe, greatly instru- 
 mental in promoting my best interests. 
 
 The pleasure with which I at first perused the 
 * Seasons ' was much enhanced by an illusion quite 
 natural to an imaginative and inexperienced mind. 
 I did not then know that the poet's business is rather 
 
 d2
 
 t b iIEMOI2S OF A WOSKI^G MAZs. 
 
 to present pictures of what ought to be than of what 
 really is ; and therefore I regarded Thomson's beau- 
 tiful and impressive descriptions of rural life and 
 manners as being strictly in accordance with existing 
 realities. I was indeed conscious that there was in 
 my own case something wanted, and which must be 
 supplied before it would be possible for me to realize 
 the happiness of which the poet speaks. What this 
 was I did not immediately perceive, but after a little 
 cogitation it occmTcd to me that " an elegant suffi- 
 ciency" of worldly riches would enable me to procure 
 much of w^hat would tend to make me happy. I was 
 then simple enough to imagine that this was attainable 
 even by such a one as myself: this, however, was a 
 delusion under which it was scarcely possible 1 should 
 long continue. In a comparatively short time I dis- 
 covered my mistake, and thenceforward read Thomson 
 and other poets with less of romantic feeling, but, I 
 think, with more of genuine pleasure. I can hardly 
 tell how it was that the vanishing of all my pleasing 
 visions affected me so slightly as it did, but perhaps 
 it might be owing to my thoughts being about this 
 time directed in an especial manner to the contem- 
 plation of another state of existence.* By some 
 secret process I was led to acquiesce in my appointed 
 lot; to give up the hope of obtaining perfect hap- 
 piness in this life, and to aspire after the nobler 
 pleasures of another and a fairer state of being. 
 From this time I began to contemplate nature under 
 a new aspect, and with different feelings than before. 
 I was mcreasiugly charmed with every magnificent 
 * I WJ13 then about fii'teen vears old.
 
 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAl^. 77 
 
 or beautiful scene or object, because it served to 
 remind me of the far grander or lovelier realities of 
 the invisible world ; but for the habit of regarding; 
 the beauties of the visible creation as the "shadows 
 or symbols of heavenly things,"' they would long ere 
 now have ceased t® afford me any real pleasure, so 
 entirely has a long course of personal suffering de- 
 stroyed my power of enjoying even the fairest scenes, 
 unless it be possible to connect them in my imagina- 
 tion with that world where there is " no more pain." 
 Looking, however, as I do, upon " the things that are 
 seen " as the representatives or types of " the things 
 that are not seen," I am sometimes, in spite of all ray 
 infirmities, enabled to contemplate a sublime or beau- 
 tiful object or prospect with emotions of heartfelt and 
 elevating pleasure. 
 
 Having repeatedly adverted to the beauty which is 
 perceptible by the eye, I will take occasion to notice 
 that which is perceived by the ear. Considering what 
 I have stated concerning my love of poetry, the in- 
 telligent reader will not be surprised when I tell him 
 that I have always been passionately fond of music, 
 both vocal and instrumental : of the latter none has 
 ever pleased me more than that of church bells. With 
 this I have always been greatly moved, but the emo- , 
 tion varies much in its character, according to the 
 particular time at which I hear the music, or the cir- 
 cumstances in which I am then placed. Thus in the 
 morning, especially if the weather be fine, the ringing 
 of bells inspires me with a cheerfulness of which at 
 other times I am unconscious : visions of joyful and 
 happy scenes forthwith present themselves to the
 
 78 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAX. 
 
 fancy and refresh the heart. At mid-day the same 
 music fails to affect me in so lively a manner; I 
 cannot then get so far clear of the world's cares or 
 toils or uproar, as to be able to interpret aright the 
 meaning of its delightful yet mystical tones. In the 
 evening it awakens emotions of either a solemn or a 
 pensive kind, yet they are such as I would not wil- 
 lingly exchange for all the light-heartedness of the 
 gay and the thoughtless. Perhaps I never had these 
 feelings more fully excited than on a fine summer 
 evening many years ago, when the church bells were 
 rung in compliment to a large body of troops which 
 at that unusual hour was marching out of the town in 
 order to go upon foreign service. On this occasion 
 the music, although in itself of a lively character, 
 seemed to me like a solemn anticipatory dirge in 
 honour of the brave men who were about to encounter 
 the horrors and the dangers of war, and of whom 
 many would doubtless fall in the coming conflict. I 
 was the more tenderly touched because of the mis- 
 timed gaiety of many among the doomed victims, 
 and also because of the senseless merriment of the 
 accompanying crowds. My thoughts, meanwhile, 
 were forcibly turned to the already bereaved parents, 
 together with the v.ives and children whose hearts, 
 not without reason, were then sinking in sadness 
 deep and inexpressible, while all around them were 
 revelling in the full tide of seeming enjoyment and 
 exultation. I have always found pleasure in hearing 
 the bells chime in token of the approaching celebration 
 of public vv'orship, but have been especially pleased 
 v.'ith the clear and solemn tones of the single bell which,
 
 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 79 
 
 1o use a familiar provincial phrase, " tolls in"' the con- 
 gregation. There is one particular bell to the tones 
 of which I have both so often and so intently listened, 
 that I think T should be able to recognise them 
 wherever they might strike upon my ear. This bell 
 belongs to one of the churches in my native town ; it 
 has always seemed to me to be singularly musical, 
 and to be expressive of hallowed thoughts and feel- 
 ings. Whether it announced the coming hour of 
 public devotion, or the departure from this world of 
 a kindred spirit, or the approaching interment of some 
 faded human form, 1 was equally, although differently 
 moved. Either the beatific worship of the heavenly 
 state, or the condition of separate spirits in general, 
 or the mysteries of death, were hereby suggested to 
 my mind ; and thus I was led into trains of thought 
 and feeling such as I would fain recall in all their 
 original power and solemnity. The music of bells 
 at midnight affects my imagination in a peculiarly 
 forcible manner. It invariably carries me in thought 
 far beyond this " visible diurnal sphere," to that 
 bright and happy world from whence I could almost 
 believe it to emanate : I seem as if 1 could fancy it 
 to be the distant echo of that sublime chorus which 
 is said to have resembled *' the sound of many waters," 
 or that which our heaven-taught bard tells us was 
 " Loud as from numljcrs without number; sweet 
 As from blest voices uttering joy." 
 
 I must now mention some other books which about 
 this time fell in my way. Among these an odd 
 volume of the ' Spectator ' deserves particular notice. 
 Where it came from, or to whom it belonged, I never
 
 80 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 
 
 knew : I discovered it in my master's kitchen. On 
 opening it I v/as struck by the seeming oddity of its 
 contents. As the book promised to give me a Jittle 
 amusement, I forthwith set about reading it. I was 
 at first a good deal mystified about its author, cha- 
 racter, and design ; yet I was much gratified with it. 
 For some time I thought it to be the work of only 
 one person, who chose to conceal himself under a 
 feigned name. I was somewhat disconcerted on 
 afterwards discovering that the work was the joint 
 production of several persons ; for I had drawn an 
 amusing imaginary picture of both the author and the 
 places he frequented. I moreover felt a good deal of 
 sympathy with his professed habits and pursuits ; but 
 found, as has since then happened to me in far more 
 vexatious matters, that I had been pleasing myself 
 with a shadow. This however, after all, was but a 
 trifling drawback upon the amusement which the 
 volume afforded me. 
 
 When I had made myself pretty vv^ell acquainted 
 with the contents of this stray volume, I was strongly 
 desirous of reading the entire work. This, hov»ever, 
 I could not then do, except by hiring it — which would 
 have caused an expense to which my purse was not 
 equal : but so soon as I could afford this indulgence, 
 I procured the remaining seven volumes, which I 
 found to be equally interesting ; and I was not fully 
 satisfied until I had gone through the whole series a 
 third time. From this singularly amusing and in- 
 structive work I gleaned various scraps of knowledge, 
 which perhaps have been as useful to me as these 
 several readings were entertainirs:. It was here that 

 
 MErvIOmS OF A WORKING MAN. 81 
 
 I caught a few glimpses of the world, which served 
 to prepare me for the better threading its mazes in 
 after-life. I have, since then, met with many living 
 and forcible exemplifications of the truths promujged 
 by the " Spectator " and his " Companions ;" and 
 have been struck with the faithfulness of their pic- 
 tures of human nature, under many of its numerous 
 and ever-changing aspects. Without being con- 
 scious of the fact, I was, while only looking for amuse- 
 ment, receiving real instruction upon many important 
 points of both principle and practice — instruction for 
 which I have since had much occasion to be grateful. 
 Here also I found help in the way of rightly under- 
 standing the noble work of our great epic poet. The 
 criticisms of Mr. Addison upon the ' Paradise Lost ' 
 led me to give it an attentive reading, in the course 
 of which I became much interested in its argument. 
 But the pleasure I derived from this source was a 
 good deal alloyed by the pain I felt at the catastrophe 
 of the poem. I was conscious of a personal interest 
 in this sad issue ; which consciousness, for a time, 
 was accompanied by feelings far too painful to be 
 easily described. It was not until I had got rid of 
 these unpleasant emotions that I could fully enjoy the 
 perusal of this wonderful performance. Whether or 
 not a perfect epic poem ought to close with the full 
 and permanent triumph of its hero, is a question 
 which I have neither ability nor occasion to deter- 
 mine ; but whatever may be its true solution, I cannot 
 subscribe to Mr. Dryden's opinion that " Satan " is 
 the real hero of the ' Paradise Lost.' It is with diffi- 
 dence that I venture to differ from so high an 
 
 d3
 
 82 MEMOIRS OF A AVORKING MAN. 
 
 authority, yet I cannot help thinking that if his 
 opinion were well grounded, it would go far towards 
 destroying the reader's interest in the poem. I may 
 just notice here the answer which Mr. Addison makes 
 to the objection that the 'Paradise Lost' is not an 
 heroic poem. He says, '"Those who will not give it 
 that title, may call it, if they please, a divine poem. 
 It will be sufficient for its perfection if it has in it all 
 the beauties of the highest kind of poetry ; and as for 
 those who allege it is not an heroic poem, they ad- 
 vance no more to the diminution of it, than if they 
 should say Adam is not lEneas, nor Eve Helen."* 
 
 "•' I ought, perhaps, to state that I write these memoii-s 
 wholly Irom memory, and therefore shall probably omit t« 
 record some matters connected with my early years, which it 
 might be well to glance at. This, however, is a difBculty 
 which I cannot now obviate, bnt must simply do the best I
 
 MEMOIKS OP A WOKKING MAX. 83 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 I THINK it was somewhere about the time to which 
 the preceding notices refer, that ray thoughts were 
 first directed to poHtical questions. Until then I had 
 not been in the way of hearing anything respecting 
 them. I had, indeed, heard a good deal of vague 
 talk about the peace of 1802 and the preparations 
 for war in 1803 — together with many remarks about 
 the probable consequences of that contest. More- 
 over, I v/as not quite ignorant of military affairs ; yet 
 I had no clear perception of the connection between 
 these things and the interests of either Gieat Britain 
 or any other country. It was generally affirmed that 
 it was a good thing to beat the French, but as to 
 either the quality or the extent of this asserted good 
 I was totally uninformed. It was at the general 
 election in 1806 that I was induced to inquire a little 
 into the meaning of all the bustle and parade which 
 I witnessed during the contest for representing m}' 
 native town in parliament. Herein I was assisted by 
 my friendly young master; he could not, indeed, 
 answer all my queries, but he was able to give me as 
 much information as enabled me to form some idea 
 of the matter. My informant was even then, as he 
 has ever since been, a warm friend of the Whig 
 party ; while all the other members of the family were 
 hearty partisans of the Tories.
 
 84 MEMOIES OF A WORKING MAN. 
 
 I know not that I ever saw a newspaper in my 
 father's house during the whole term of my early 
 years : a fragment of one would, indeed, sometimes 
 find its way thither. From this source, however, I 
 could have got but little information, even had I 
 sought it — which I do not remember to have done. 
 Now, however, I began to pry into the contents of 
 " this folio of four pages " whenever it came in my 
 way. My master — in conjunction with some friends 
 — took in a newspaper, called, if I remember rightly, 
 'Lloyd's Evening Post ;' and at this I sometimes got 
 a hasty peep. At first, as was natural, I was chiefly 
 interested with the domestic news: I took care to 
 read about 
 
 '• The naoviiig accidents by fire or flood," 
 
 with an account of which a newspaper commonly 
 abounds. But my curiosity was not long confined to 
 these " little things." It soon led me to look at the 
 articles of foreign intelligence, which — as it was a 
 time of almost universal war — were full of strange 
 and spirit-stirring narrations. From these the transi- 
 tion was easy to the perusal of the parliamentary 
 news, together with the speeches delivered at public 
 meetings, and, ere long, I could take pleasure in 
 reading about 
 
 " The grand debate. 
 The popular harangue, the tart reply, 
 The logic, and the wisdom, and the wit, 
 And the loud laugh," 
 
 which, from time to time, I here found to be re- 
 corded. At length I ventured upon reading what 
 are called the leading articles, together with what-
 
 MEMOIRS OP A WORKING MAN. 85 
 
 ever else touched upon public affairs. From that 
 period until now — although without ever having 
 been a mere newsmonger — I have always felt a 
 livel}^ interest in looking over the contents of a news- 
 paper. I will just add, that he must be a careless 
 reader who does not turn even this light reading to 
 some good account. 
 
 Somewhere about this time I met with a volume to 
 which I am much indebted. This was a copy of 
 Simpson's 'Plea for Religion and the Sacred Writ- 
 ings ' — concerning which I have heard it said that it 
 ought rather to have been called ' A Plea for Infi- 
 delity,' because of its dv>^elling so much upon the 
 corruptions of Christianity and the inconsistent de- 
 portment of some among its ministers. This objec- 
 tion, however, did not strike me as being of any real 
 force, for I perceived — what, indeed, is self-evident — 
 that the errors or even the vices of men can in no- 
 wise disprove the reality of religion nor invalidate 
 its claims. The immoral practices of professed Chris- 
 tians may be satisfactorily and readily accounted for, 
 without calling in question either the facts or the 
 doctrines of Christianity. Yet I have long thought 
 that it would have been as well if the estimable au- 
 thor of this book had been less minute in his accounts 
 of the misdeeds of men professing the Christian faith; 
 for notwithstanding the plain fact that Christianity 
 and its corruptions are totally distinct and separate 
 matters, it is certain that many persons seem to be 
 quite unable to perceive the difference between them. 
 But it is not my business to be a critic : I have to do 
 with the book only so far as it had any influence
 
 85 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 
 
 upon myself. In my case it was a seasonable defence 
 against the perils to which both my principles and 
 morals were exposed from my constant association 
 with persons who were greatly hostile to moral truth 
 and thoroughly careless about moral virtue. Besides 
 all this, I owe to this volume many scraps of know- 
 ledge upon various subjects referred to in the notes 
 by which the text is appropriately and extensively 
 illustrated. 
 
 Nor must I omit to mention the obligations I owe 
 to some essays written by the late Rev. Thomas Scott, 
 and which were given me by my master. I do not 
 remember their exact titles, nor can I recollect much 
 of more than one of them. This was, if I err not, a 
 kind of exposition of the tenth commandment. From 
 the author's forcible statements respecting the nature 
 of covetousness, and the various ways in which this 
 passion develops itself, I became partly convinced 
 that all games of cha,nce or hazard, for the sake of 
 pecuniary gain, were morally wrong. This partial 
 conviction settled into a fixed and hitherto unalter- 
 able belief — a belief, moreover, which has governed 
 my practice. I have seen much of gambling, and 
 have heard much said in its praise, especially in re- 
 i^ard to both state lotteries and what were called 
 " little goes," together with Tontines and the like ; 
 yet I have never staked even the smallest sum upon 
 the issue of any game or speculation whatever. Nei- 
 ther have I sought for amusement from any species 
 of gaming, for I have seen much of the occasions 
 hereby given for bringing into play some of the worst 
 passions of human nature. I have never witnessed 
 
 !
 
 MEMOIRS OF A ■WORKING MAK. 87 
 
 the display of more hateful feelings nor ever heard 
 more profane language uttered than on the occasion 
 of a game v/here the stake was nothing. 
 
 I now turn, for a while, from books to men and 
 manners — of both which I had at this time consider- 
 able opportunities of taking notice. Having already- 
 given a brief sketch of ray master, together with his 
 numerous household and workmen, I shall forbear 
 saying further about them than merely to remark 
 that the general conversation and deportment of the 
 latter were such as denoted them to be lovers of 
 themselves rather than of God or of their fellow-men. 
 I was sometimes sent to the houses of such of them 
 as were married men, where, in general, I failed to 
 witness the marks of good housewifery which, amidst 
 all my mothers troubles and privations, were ever 
 apparent in herself, her children, and her humble 
 dwelling. 1 could not but perceive the difference, 
 and I learned thereby the more fully to approve of 
 cleanliness, decency, and good order, and, moreover, 
 to regard their opposites as being the proper objects 
 of deep and lasting disapprobation. I was also fre- 
 quently sent to the barracks with clothes for the 
 officers who employed my master. In the rooms of 
 some of these gentlemen I sometimes witnessed what 
 put me to the blush ; and I have since then won- 
 dered that full-grown men — and gentlemen too — 
 should have permitted such conduct to come within 
 the notice of one like myself. 
 
 I need not dwell upon the yet more degrading ac- 
 tions and the disgusting language of the private sol-
 
 88 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAX. 
 
 diers and their companions. Among these I could 
 not but perceive that 
 
 " Vice is a creature of such hateful mien, 
 As, to be hated, needs but to be seen."' 
 
 I forbear to mention the numbers or the names of 
 the regiments to which these depraved men be- 
 longed. There was much difference between one 
 regiment and another in regard to both moral cha- 
 racter and becoming deportment. But I must not 
 omit to name some that were distinguished by the 
 truly gentleman-like bearing of the officers, and the 
 almost universal sobriety and civility of the privates. 
 These were the 42nd, the 79th, and tiie 92nd regi- 
 ments of the line,* each of which was composed of 
 Scottish Highlanders— or, at least, of Scotchmen. 
 They were bodies of really soldier-like, well-behaved, 
 and otherwise respectable men, who both acquired 
 and retained the respect of their fellow-soldiers and 
 also of the inhabitants of the town and its neighbour- 
 hood. 
 
 The general election consequent upon the break- 
 ing up of Lord Grenville's administration, in the 
 spring of 1807, gave me the means of adding a little 
 more to my knowledge of the world. I could not, 
 indeed, interpret rightly all that I saw and heard, 
 but I could, nevertheless, understand enough thereof 
 to see the instability of popular favour, and the 
 
 * To which might be added the 95th (a rifle corps), whose 
 commander, at the time here referred to, was a fine example of 
 the Christian geutlenaan, as well as of the efficient military 
 officer.
 
 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 89 
 
 worthlessness of popular applause. The gentleman 
 who had been the favourite candidate of the people, 
 and whom they had joyfully sent into Parliament 
 less than a year before, was now so coldly received 
 by his recent friends, that he thought it prudent to 
 retire from the field without trying the issue of a 
 contest. The watchwords which he so effectively 
 
 employed at the preceding election — " T 1 and 
 
 the glorious Revolution of 1688" — were now power- 
 less, while those of his opponent — "No Popery" — 
 appeared to have an almost talismanic influence. 
 The worthy (?) electors seemed to have undergone a 
 transformation which, to the uninitiated in such mat- 
 ters, was not easily to be accounted for. Except 
 from ."^the speeches and placards of the candidates 
 and their friends, I should not then have discovered 
 that the exercise of the elective franchise involves 
 the discharge of a public duty ; neither should I have 
 judged it to be conducive to any real private advan- 
 tage. From the general aspect of the whole scene I 
 should rather have inferred that it was considered 
 merely as an occasion for indulging in unrestrained 
 intemperance and lawless confusion. 
 
 The countenance which I saw was given to these 
 and other immoral practices by respectable men was 
 what I could not understand ; and even now I am at 
 a loss to comprehend fully how it is that such men 
 can allow themselves to patronize what has so power- 
 ful a tendency to debase the character and to injure 
 the condition of their unreflecting and needy country- 
 men. 
 
 The next public event that attracted my notice was
 
 90 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 
 
 the great military expedition to Copenhagen. Nearly 
 if not all the regiments of the line then in the adja- 
 cent barracks were sent upon this service ; and I think 
 it was the bustle and excitement connected with their 
 departure that led my master's workmen to take some 
 additional interest in public affairs. Until this time 
 I do not remember to have heard them talk much 
 about matters of that description. Now, however, 
 they clubbed their pence to pay for a newspaper, and 
 selected the 'Weekly Political Register' of that clever 
 man the late William Cobbett. This journal was in 
 the form of a pamphlet. It was chiefly filled with 
 the letters of correspondents and the political disqui- 
 sitions of the proprietor. The only news it contained 
 was that which related to the naval and military ope- 
 rations of the British forces. The ' Political Register' 
 was soon thought to be deficient in matters of general 
 interest. It was therefore exchanged for the ' Courier,' 
 which in a short time gave place to the ' Independent 
 Whig.' From this time the men were warm poli- 
 ticians — not indeed very well conversant wuth public 
 affairs, but what they lacked in knowledge they made 
 up by a rather large amount of zealous partisanship. 
 When they were too busy to look over the newspaper 
 they employed me as their reader — an office whose 
 duties I found to be very pleasant. 
 
 About this time I might also have had a little 
 amusement of a more active description, but for my 
 timidity and unskilfulness. My master kept a horse, 
 which occasionally required to be taken out for the 
 purpose of giving him exercise. It usually fell to my 
 lot to be sent out with him — a task from which I
 
 MEMOIRS OF A WOS.KIXG MAN. 91 
 
 might perhaps have been excused had I told my 
 master that I was not equal to its due performance. 
 I was, however, ashamed to do this, and consequently 
 was several times brought into much danger; for 
 although the horse was not a much better-looking 
 animal than was Don Quixote's Rosinante, or the re- 
 nowned Grizzle of Dr. Syntax, he was nevertheless a 
 good deal self-willed, and moreover had sufficient 
 acuteness to perceive that I was neither skilful nor 
 strong enough to manage him. He therefore did 
 nearly as he pleased with his rider. Several times he 
 ran away with me. On these occasions he ran just as 
 long and in just such a direction as it pleased him. 
 Meanwhile I had quite enough to do to keep my 
 seat. In order to secure this I adopted a plan re- 
 sembling that of my famous predecessor, John Gilpin, 
 with only this difference, that whereas John held fast 
 by his horse's mane, I kept firm hold of the saddle ; 
 yet with even this precaution I was once nearly un- 
 seated by being brought into contact with a brewers 
 dray, while on another occasion I was fairly brought 
 to the ground. In this latter instance I was in con- 
 siderable danger. My horse became frightened at 
 the cackling of some geese, on which (without giving 
 me any further notice than that of squeaking in atone 
 much resembling that of a pig, which was his usual 
 note of preparation for a frolic) he set off at full 
 gallop. I was soon dismounted ; but being fearful 
 that I should not easily catch him if he got clear 
 away, I retained my hold of the bridle, and thus was 
 trailed a considerable distance. I can hardly tell how 
 I recovered my standing, or contrived to get the better
 
 92 MEMOIRS OF A V.ORKING MAN. 
 
 of my wayward steed ; but happily T did both, with- 
 out sustaining much damage further than that of 
 being dirty. The effect of this accident was that ] 
 became a yet more timid rider than ever. I endea- 
 voured indeed to become a better horseman, but with 
 hardly any success. The chief difficulty I encountered 
 was in keeping my seat when the horse changed his 
 pace from either a walk or a canter to a trot. In each 
 of these cases I was in danger of being thrown off by 
 the suddenness of the shock thereby produced. I 
 escaped this result only by keeping a firm hold of the 
 saddle, but I was sometimes prevented doing this by 
 not being on my guard. In addition to these incon- 
 veniences I had frequently to bear the ridicule of both 
 men and boys, who, perceiving my awkwardness, did 
 not fail to rally me thereupon in a way which I felt to 
 be not a little embarrassing. It were needless to 
 dwell upon the satisfaction with which I at length 
 received my discharge from these equestrian exer- 
 cises. Only once since then have I mounted a horse, 
 and this was sorely against my will, but I could not 
 well avoid it, although I feared [it might lead me to 
 re-enact some of my former feats. 
 
 My pedestrian expeditions were in general less 
 hazardous, yet one of these was attended by circum- 
 stances which I felt to be a good deal embarrassing. 
 It was necessary that some clothes should be sent 
 home which were not finished until late in the day, 
 and as I had a considerable distance to go, I was be- 
 nighted long before I got to my journey's end. It was 
 a dark winter's evening. Part of my path led through 
 a narrow dirtv lane, across the bottom of which ran a
 
 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 93 
 
 river, then much swollen by the late heavy rains. A 
 bridge, formed of only two planks in width, with a 
 hand-rail on one side, was the only means of getting 
 to the farther side of the stream. It was not an easy 
 matter to find this bridge in a night so dark as this 
 was. I had taken the precaution of carrying with me 
 a lantern, but just as I came close upon the river my 
 light was extinguished. This mishap threw me into 
 no small perplexity. I was afraid to go forward, I 
 dared not return without performing my errand, and 
 I had no means of procuring a light. In this dilemma 
 I bethought myself of a farm-house not far from where 
 I was, and immediately set about trying to find it. 
 This was a rather difficult task, but at length I ac- 
 complished it, and procured a light. 
 
 This, to some, may appear to be an incident so 
 trijaing a& to be hardly worth recording. To such I 
 would say, that it involved my personal safety, and 
 might as easily have had a fatal termination as if the 
 circumstances attending it had been of a more extra- 
 ordinary character. 
 
 On another occasion I was sent to a village about 
 four miles distant, my path to which was upon the 
 top of a clay-wall, which kept the stream it bounded 
 from overflowing the neighbouring marshes. It was 
 winter-time, — there was much snow on the ground, — 
 the ditches, pools, and (in some places) the river also, 
 were covered with ice. There was a cutting wind, 
 and I was but thinly clad. I remember to have felt 
 cold and cheerless, as I wended my way through 
 a scene which to me seemed dreary and desolate. 
 When I approached the place of my destination I
 
 94 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 
 
 found that I had taken the wrong path ; for the river, 
 which I ought to have crossed at the outset of my 
 walk, now rolJed betwixt me and the place in que&- 
 tion. The only way of getting over was by a ferry- 
 boat ; but here a new difficulty presented itself, for I 
 had no money. The ferry-man was not to be moved 
 by a tale of distress, but insisted upon having his fare, 
 in either hard cash or goods. I had nothing where- 
 with to satisfy his demands, except a pocket-knife ; 
 this, therefore, I left with him as a pledge until my 
 return. I then redeemed it, with a penny borrowed 
 of the good man to whom I had been sent. 
 
 This journey was the means of giving my health a 
 shock from which it has never yet recovered, nor ever 
 will recover. My feeble and much overworked frame 
 wa.s ill-prepared for an encounter with the " biting 
 frosf and the bitterly cold wind which then assailed 
 it ; and the consequence was, that I soon afterwards 
 became seriously ill. L was confined to my dwelling, 
 and in a great degree to my bed, for five weeks, dur- 
 ing the greater part of which time it was very doubt- 
 ful whether I should ever again go abroad. The 
 chief symptoms were, a severe cough, copious night- 
 sweats, much debility, and loss of appetite. I do not 
 remember that I had any medical advice or assistance, 
 until towards the close of the five weeks above re- 
 ferred to. My parents did their best to promote both 
 my comfort and my restoration to health ; but ail 
 they were able to do amounted to but little, on account 
 of their straitened circumstances. These were now 
 made still narrower by the loss of my wages, which, 
 though small, were yet an important addition to their
 
 MEMOIRS OF A Vv'ORKING MAN. 95 
 
 scanty income. All they received during ray illness, 
 in abatement of their loss, was two shillings and a 
 small piece of mutton. I say not this in the way of 
 complaint, much less of reproach ; for my master 
 was not a rich man, while he had to bear the heavy 
 charges of a numerous family, none of whom were 
 able to contribute anything towards the maintenance 
 of the household. I should not, indeed, have noted 
 down these particulars, but for the light they throv/ 
 upon circumstances which, although very common, 
 are nevertheless much overlooked. I refer to the 
 peculiar difficulties attendant upon the illness of 
 working people, who, when their condition requires 
 increased comfoits, are, by the failure of their income, 
 frequently rendered unable to procure even the com- 
 mon necessaries of life. For myself 1 can safely 
 affirm that I felt not a little of this privation during 
 the illness of which I have been writing, and I have 
 good reason to believe that I feel the consequences 
 thereof even at the present time. Yet, disastrous as 
 it was to my easily shaken frame, there was an ad- 
 mixture of good with the evil. This good was of a 
 moral kind ; and was, as I believe, both genuine and 
 enduring. My illness had the effect of moderating 
 my wishes and hopes respecting temporal happiness, 
 which, until then, like those of most young people, 
 were far too sanguine. Whether or not my disorder 
 was such as to warrant the fear of a fatal termination, 
 I cannot say ; thus much, however, is certain, that I 
 for some time apprehended this issue, and endea- 
 voured to prepare for it. 
 , In this I was much more successful at the time
 
 96 , MEMOiliS OF A WORKING MAN. 
 
 than I could have expected ; and from then, until 
 now, I have never been much moved at the thought 
 of dissolution : neither have I thought the contempla- 
 tion of death to be a melancholy task. Should any 
 one be curious to know hov^r this effect was produced, 
 I hesitate not to affirm that it was through the medium 
 of a cordial belief in that volume which brings " life 
 and immortality to light." In the cheering announce- 
 ments of this book I was enabled to see 
 
 '•' Death of its sting disarm'd, and the dark grave 
 Made pervious to the realms of endless day." 
 
 How little do they who neglect or refuse to avail 
 themselves of the consolations of Christianity, know 
 of the costly sacrifice which they thus make to their 
 own thoughtlessness or prejudice ! What else is there 
 that can either irradiate the mind or animate the 
 heart, when shrouded in the gloomy atmosphere of 
 those " days of darkness " which, sooner or later, 
 come upon every human being ? In how many seasons 
 of acute suffering or of depressing languor have I 
 been soothed or supported by such declarations a^ 
 these ; — " The inhabitant of that land shall no more 
 say, ' I am sick :' " — " And there shall be no more 
 death ; neither sorrow, nor crying : neither shall there 
 be any more pain."' But I forbear to enlarge upon 
 this subject. To the wise a word will be enough; 
 while to the unwise even a multitude of words, 
 although they were " most eloquent,"' would be but 
 as an empty sound.
 
 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 97 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 The serious thoughts to which my illness gave rise 
 were much strengthened by my reading at the time 
 several of Dr. Watts's ' Lyric Poems,' * which then 
 first came into my hands. The reader will, perhaps, 
 bear with me if I quote a passage which then was, 
 and at many subsequent times has been, the means of 
 awakening much encouraging thought : — 
 
 " The past temptations 
 No more shall vex us ; ev'ry grief we feel 
 Shortens the destiifd number ; ev'ry pulse 
 Beats a sharp moment of the pain away, 
 And the last stroke will come. By swift degrees 
 Time sweeps us oiY, and we shall soon arrive 
 At life's sweet period — O celestial point 
 That ends this mortal story.' 
 
 I resumed my work at the earliest possible time ; 
 but was in a very unfit state for the fatigue I was 
 obliged to undergo. I was much enfeebled, and, 
 
 * The volume containing these belonged to the edition of 
 the British Poets which was published by that enterprising 
 bookseller Mr. Cooke. It was, I think, the first edition of 
 these authors' works which united a moderate price with good 
 paper,*.clear printing, and tasteful embellishments. There 
 were (in fact) two editions, both of which were published in 
 numbers ; the best, with proof imjjressions of the plates, and 
 printed upon a fine paper, was sold at a shilling, and the inferior 
 one at sixpence, per number. It is much to be regretted that 
 Mr. Cooke should have met the fate — far too frequent — of 
 Liberal-minded publishers.
 
 98 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 
 
 moreover, breathed ^vith considerable difficulty ; be- 
 sides which, I was troubled v.ith a distressing cough. 
 I now sought medical advice of a kind-hearted physi- 
 cian. This gentleman, whose name v.as Parry, was 
 attached to the forces in the adjacent barracks. He 
 treated m,e with such kindness, both of langua,ge and 
 manner, as to inspire me with feelings of gratitude, 
 which even now have not wholly subsided. He gave 
 me advice as to the taking proper care of myseli", 
 and, moreover, some medicine ; but I think he per- 
 ceived that I chiefly needed such physic as that good 
 man Dr. Goldsmith gave to the poor woman who 
 craved his professional aid. From his asking me, 
 very pointedly, whether or not any of my relatives 
 had died of consumption, I inferred that he considered 
 ray complaint to be of that character. It turned out, 
 however, to be an asthmatic affection, from which I 
 soon afterwards suffered no small inconvenience, and 
 which through many subsequent years, even down to 
 the present time, has been the bane and burden of 
 my life. 
 
 My original suffering from this source would have 
 been much alleviated had I been considerately dealt 
 with by my taskmasters. This, however, was far 
 enough from being the case : I was made to do my 
 full amount of work, just the same as if I had ailed 
 nothing. Notwithstanding my severe cough, and the 
 severity of the weather — for it was winter-time — I was 
 made thoroughly to clean the outside of two large 
 bay-windows that lighted the front-shop ; a job that 
 kept me in the open air for two or three hours. 
 
 In addition to this, I was compelled by an un-
 
 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAX. 99 
 
 feeling shopman to take the heaviest work in daily 
 opening and closing the shop ; also in putting up and 
 taking down weekly a partition which was used on 
 Sundays. His conduct was the more inexcusable, 
 inasmuch as he was a strong and active young man, 
 and moreover was well aware of my weak and dis- 
 ordered state. I forbore to complain of him to my 
 master ; but I ventured to remonstrate with my op- 
 pressor, who took offence thereat, and thenceforth 
 treated me with increased harshness. Many a time 
 has he made me work hard while I was struggling 
 with a lit of coughing so violent as to produce retch- 
 ing, at which he could be amused. I never com- 
 plained much of this treatment to my parents, for I 
 well knew, that they could not afford to keep me at 
 home, and I was afraid, if I told them all, that their 
 concern for my health and comfort might get the 
 better of their prudence, and thus lead to their 
 making such a remonstrance as would incur the loss 
 of my employment. 
 
 If I rightly interpret my present temper, I narrate 
 these circumstances without anything of resentment ; 
 but I am free to confess that at the time I was fre- 
 quently in danger of being angry as well as grieved 
 at the harsh treatment I received. And I further 
 confess that when I, some years afterwards, saw my 
 persecutors name in a list of bankrupts, I could 
 hardly help considering his disasters as a righteous 
 retribution for the cruelty of which he was formerly 
 guilty towards myself. What became of him after 
 his bankruptcy I do not know ; I would, hov/ever, 
 hope that he found more sympathy and help in the 
 
 E 2
 
 100 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 
 
 day of his need than he ever vouchsafed to bestow 
 upon me. I continued in very bad health until the 
 spring-time, when I nearly got rid of my cough, and 
 moreover gained a little strength ; but my breathing 
 was frequently very difficult, especially if I attempted 
 to run, or even to walk quickly. I had formerly been 
 rather nimble-footed, but I now found that my run- 
 ning-days were gone by. I have never since then 
 been able to exceed a moderate walking-pace, except 
 for a very short distance. I retained, however, my 
 custom of getting an early morning walk, being 
 prompted thereto by an increasing love for natural 
 beauty, and also by a desire to secure a convenient 
 opportunity for reading and reflection. In these early 
 rambles I often felt that peculiar kind of bodily lan- 
 guor which, so far from being unfavourable to mental 
 activity, seems rather to be instrumental in arousing 
 the mind to 
 
 *•' Soleniti thought 
 And heavenly musing." 
 
 At any rate it had this effect upon myself, for when- 
 ever it came upon me my thoughts adverted to that 
 state of existence in which the weary and broken- 
 down pilgrims of earth " rest from their labours,' 
 and that too for ever. My heart would then yearn 
 after that rest, and I would willingly have encoun- 
 tered all the intermediate conflict with mortal pain 
 and death, in order to obtain it. In these seasons I 
 would gladly have seen Time annihilated as it re- 
 garded myself, so that I might at once have been freed 
 from the pains and perils of mortal life. With these
 
 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 101 
 
 feelings — which 1 do not like to call morbid — it was 
 natural that I should cease to regard death and the 
 gi-ave with anything like terror, or even with aver- 
 sion. I was, indeed, wilhng to be familiar wuth both, 
 and found a strange pleasure in contemplating what- 
 ever most forcibly reminded me of them. I have 
 spent many an hour, of a not unpleasing character, in 
 church-yard rambles, and could there witness what- 
 ever I saw of human mortality, without wishing to 
 escape the " common lot " of my species. 
 
 It was in this state of feeling that I first got 
 hold of a little volume called 'The Wreath,' con- 
 taining a collection of poems by various authors. 
 Among these pieces was ' The Grave,' which soon 
 commended itself to my hearty and unqualified ap- 
 probation. For a good while it was to me a sort of 
 bOsom-friend, the companion of my leisure hours, the 
 prompter of my meditations while I was at work. It 
 thus became written so deeply upon my memory as 
 not to be easily obliterated. Even now I could, with 
 but little assistance, recite nearly the whole poem. 
 I presume not to scan it critically, yet I may, per- 
 haps, be allowed to say that in many places it appears 
 to me to be true and eloquent poetry. 
 
 Besides this poem, the volume contained 'The 
 Minstrel,' of which I venture to say that I consider 
 it to be of almost unequalled beauty and interest. To 
 have been the author of this poem was, as I think, 
 an honour of no common order. To me it has ever 
 appeared to be an exquisitely finished production, 
 adapted equally to the purposes of informing the 
 understanding, ameliorating the passions, and pleasing
 
 102 MEMOIRS OF A WOilKIXG MAN. 
 
 the iniagination. Everythins: about it pleases me. 
 The structure of the verse — the sentiments — the de- 
 scriptions — are alike beautiful, and in admirable 
 keeping:. 
 
 There ^vas here yet another poem which arrested 
 my attention fully as much as did 'The I\Iinstrel ' or 
 'The Grave." This v/as entitled 'Death/ — a prize- 
 poera written by that eminently good man Dr. 
 Porteus. It was also in this little volume that I 
 first became acquainted with the poetry of that good 
 but hapless man Christopher Smart. It was one O;" 
 his prize-poems : I have, since then, read the whole 
 of these fine compositions. Some quotations from Dr. 
 Young's ' Night Thoughts,' which I met with in the 
 ' Plea for Religion' and elsewhere, led me to seek 
 an opportunity for perusing the whole of these com- 
 positions. This, however, so far as I can remember, 
 did not offer itself until I contrived to buy a copy. It 
 was a cheap, small volume, and thus was suited both 
 to my purse and to my purpose of carrying it about 
 me. I read it with eagerness, and with emotions 
 such as I am hardly able to chai-acterize aright ; but 
 I think they were chiefly those of wonder mingled 
 with delight. Here, moreover, I found ample means 
 of learning how to observe the most magnificent ob- 
 jects of nature, and how to meditate profitably upon 
 many subjects of great interest and importance. 
 Many of the authors thoughts were to me entirely 
 new, and I greatly admired both the noble and the 
 beautiful imagery by which many of them are illus- 
 trated. Some of them, indeed, which had not the 
 charm of novelty, were nevertheless made to appear
 
 MEMOIRS OP. A WORKING MAN. 103 
 
 singularly beautiful by reason of the attractive form 
 in which they were for the first time^brought before 
 me. I sometimes found it difficult to make out the 
 author's meaning, on account of the peculiarity or 
 the obscurity of his style. This, however, neither 
 displeased nor discouraged me. It served rather to 
 iquicken and strengthen my efforts towards fully under- 
 standing what was meant. I had in very early life 
 contracted a habit of resolutely endeavouring to 
 understand whatever I might be engaged in ; and, 
 as I had generally succeeded in a good degree, I 
 doubted not that I should also succeed in regard to 
 the difficulties which I here encountered. Nor was 
 I disappointed herein, for, ere long, I found that I 
 could perceive pretty clearly the purport of even the 
 most difficult passages, with the exception, however, 
 oi two, to which, even now% I cannot affix any deter- 
 minate sense.* 
 
 I had never before been led to contemplate the 
 universe mider an aspect so magnificent and impres- 
 sive as that under which I here saw it represented. 
 The earth, together with the whole system of worlds 
 to which it belongs, seemed to be only an atom — • 
 almost a nonentity — in comparison with the vast, the 
 
 * The first is in that section called '* The Christian Tri- 
 umph," and reads thus — 
 
 " The great first — last ! pavilion'd high he sits 
 In darkness from excessive si)lei){lour, borne 
 By gods unseen, unless through lustre lost."' 
 
 The other is in the third section, and is as follows : — 
 " And shall we then for virtue's sake coinmence 
 Apostates? and turn intidels for joy ? "
 
 ]04 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 
 
 seemingly unbounded extent of the universal crea- 
 tion. As to myself, I felt that I was almost " less 
 than nothing and vanity ;" or, at the most, a unit of 
 very little amount in the vast aggregated sum of 
 created objects. 
 
 These im-j^ressions fixed themselves upon the mind 
 and became the instruments of much moral benefit. 
 They served to prevent my indulging in self-import- 
 ant or self-gratulatory feelings ; while they inspired 
 me with becoming thoughts concerning the majesty 
 and the power, the wisdom and the goodness, of the 
 infinitely great Creator. 
 
 The strong tendency of my mind at this time to 
 serious thought was a good deal increased by several 
 incidents in which I felt considerable interest. One 
 of these was the death of the venerable man who was 
 my school-patron, and who for many years had been 
 the officiating minister of the congregation to which 
 I belonged. There was something of unusual cere- 
 mony connected with the burial of his remains. One 
 who had been his fellow-student preached his funeral 
 discourse ; there was a large assembly of hearers, 
 among which there were many who belonged to 
 other communities, but were now present in token of 
 their respect for the memory of a good man. For 
 several years prior to his decease he had, by the in- 
 firmities of age, been laid aside from his pastoral 
 duties. He had procured a colleague, an excellent 
 man, who was reported to be a good scholar and an 
 efficient teacher of youth ; but he had, as was affirmed, 
 no pretensions to pulpit eloquence. There was 
 much complaint upon this head among many of the
 
 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 105 
 
 congregation, including a majority of the leading 
 men. The issue was that he resigned. In this affair 
 I saw enough to teach me that the system of appoint- 
 ing the ministers of religion by the suffrages of a 
 society or a congregation is not quite so faultless as 
 has been asserted. 
 
 While the people were destitute of a settled pastor 
 the public services were conducted by different mini- 
 sters. Some of these were students sent from a 
 theological seminary, while others were men who had 
 long exercised the functions of the ministerial office. 
 Among the latter was one whose unusually earnest 
 manner of preaching made a powerful impression 
 upon my feelings. I know not whether he could 
 properly have been called an eloquent man, but he 
 was, unquestionably, both a fluent and impressive 
 speaker ; so much so, indeed, as to attract very large 
 congregations whenever or wherever he officiated. His 
 pulpit labours were so effective that it might fairly 
 have been said of him — 
 
 " Truth from his lips pievail'd with double sway ; 
 And fools who canrie to scoft' remain'd to pray." 
 
 The preaching of this good man moved me far more 
 powerfully than I can well describe. 1 listened with 
 the deepest interest to his solemn warnings, his 
 earnest expostulations, his forcible delineations of re- 
 ligious character, and his almost graphical descrip- 
 tions of a future state. It was impossible to suspect 
 him of being otherwise than thoroughly sincere and 
 in earnest ; for there was not the slightest symptom 
 at any time of affectation, or any of the other foibles 
 
 E 3
 
 106 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 
 
 or tricks of a man who, in preaching, was merel}' acting 
 a part. The interest I felt in hearing his discourses 
 added much to the satisfaction and, I may safely 
 say, to the heartfelt pleasure with which my Sunday 
 pursuits and engagement had for some time been 
 attended. In my earlier years, this day was too often 
 beclouded and made uncomfortable by domestic 
 troubles, which, although I was then so young, 1 
 could not witness without much pain and concern ; 
 now, however, our affairs were in a little better state, 
 and there was more household comfort. Our Sundays 
 were really seasons of rest and quietness ; and, con- 
 sequently, my amount of enjoyment was much in- 
 creased. Everything about me on these days seemed 
 to wear a new aspect — that of sacred repose. To me 
 it was a day of inestimable worth. I looked for its 
 return with emotions of heartfelt pleasure, anticipat- 
 ing a day of rational and invigorating enjoyment. Nor 
 was I often disappointed in even the least degree ; 
 for though I felt on this day the natural effects of six 
 days' previous and wearying labour, yet I had learned 
 not to be cast down on that account. I, moreover, 
 found my Sunday pursuits and amusements to be 
 powerfully instrumental in cheering and elevating my 
 " inner man." My custom was to have everything I 
 was likely to want on this day got ready for my use 
 on the preceding evening, so that I might have the 
 entire day at my disposal. That I might make the 
 day as long as possible, I rose early : if the mornings 
 were at all fine, I walked in the adjacent fields, where 
 I found ample amusement in either reading the book 
 of nature or some humbler volume, without which I
 
 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 107 
 
 took care never to go out on these excursions. About 
 the time that the melodious sound of 
 
 " The cliurch-going- bells, 
 The music nighest bordering upon heaven," 
 
 was first heard, I reached home, and there took my 
 frugal meal, in company and converse with my 
 parents and sister. I did this with feelings of satis- 
 faction, such as I wish could be understood by all 
 who are regardless of domestic happiness. After 
 breakfast I sometimes sauntered in my father's little 
 garden, where I either gossiped with him about his 
 flowers and plants, or else indulged in some pleasing 
 reverie, or, in the very idleness of thought, gazed on 
 the '"slowly sailing" clouds, or on the quick move- 
 ments of the birds, or listened to the " pleasing hum" 
 of insects. When less indolent I employed myself in 
 reading. At other times I went out soon after break- 
 fast in order to have a quiet ramble in the spacious, 
 thickly-peopled, and, in my esteem, pleasant grave- 
 yard attached to the meeting-house. Here I found 
 much and fitting employment for both the memory 
 and the imagination. I passed by or over the last 
 resting-places of many faded forms, which I remem- 
 bered to have seen exhibiting the bloom of youth or 
 the vigour of maturity : now the grass, that apt and 
 beautiful emblem of human frailty, flourished on their 
 graves. There were flowers also, which, though wild 
 and generally unregarded, were in my view full of 
 beauty ; as they seemed to be emblems, if not 
 pledges, of the resuscitation of the dust over which 
 they diffused a not unpleasing odour. To me they 
 appeared to answer, affirmatively, the anxious ques-
 
 108 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 
 
 tion of the querulous patriarch, " If a man die, shall 
 he live again ? " Here, then, I read an instructive 
 and an appropriate lesson ; one, moreover, which 
 was useful from its tendency to prepare me for the 
 exercises of public worship. I attended on these 
 with becoming seriousness, mingled with much true 
 satisfaction. In these days ;I rarely thought the ser- 
 vice to be either too long or not sufficiently interest- 
 ing. I was but little concerned about the controver- 
 sial points of theological doctrine ; being principally 
 mindful of what had a direct bearing upon the far 
 w^eightier matters of practical religion. After the 
 service was over, I sometimes took a short walk, but 
 more frequently returned home immediately, where I 
 spent the interval between the morning and afternoon 
 services much in the same way as I had passed the 
 time at and after my breakfast. In the afternoon I 
 again attended public worship, but a sense of bodily 
 weariness or languor often rendered it less interesting 
 than that of the morning. This eventually led me to 
 question the utiHty of attending the afternoon service, 
 when that of the morning has not been neglected. 
 My conclusion was in favour of spending the time 
 appropriated to this service in either reading or re- 
 flection, or suitable conversation ; but this conclusion 
 impHed an attendance upon the evening worship. 
 The time between the afternoon and the evening ser- 
 vices 1 always prized very highly. It was, indeed, 
 that part of the Sunday's leisure which I especially 
 enjoyed. The reason for this was, probably, that I 
 then felt much less worn and languid than at any 
 previous hour of the day. This favourable change in
 
 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAX. 109 
 
 my bodily sensations was produced, as I think, partly 
 
 by the propitious influence of a tranquillized mind 
 
 upon my very susceptible frame, and partly by my 
 
 then participating in the refreshing contents of 
 
 " The cups 
 That cheer, but not inebriate." 
 
 The repast known by the name of " tea " has ever 
 been a favourite one with myself. It is then, if at 
 all, that I feel an increased amount of bodily ease, 
 with more mental activity and enjoyment. I could 
 find it in my heart to bless the memory of him who 
 first brought into notice the shrub which has so often 
 and for so long a time ministered to my comfort. 
 Many a time I have felt greatly revived by merely 
 smelling the odour of the pleasant beverage made 
 from its leaves. I would not exchange this refresh- 
 ing decoction for any of the productions of the vine- 
 yard which I have been allowed to taste, still less for 
 those of the brewhouse or the distillery. These dis- 
 order or oppress me, while tea seldom fails to produce 
 the opposite effect of composedness or of exhilara- 
 tion. Yet I am not hostile — far, indeed, from it — to 
 the temperate use of these stronger drinks ; on the 
 contrary, I hold them to be morally lawful, and 
 also useful, on some occasions, to such as have 
 stronger constitutions than mine, or whose avocations 
 require a more powerful stimulant than I can bear. 
 
 But I must return to the circumstances and results 
 of my Sunday tea-drinkings. At that repast I usually 
 had a little cheerful conversation with the other 
 members of the household ; or else read to them, or 
 listened to what they might read; and thus was
 
 110 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 
 
 agreeably employed until it was time to attend the 
 evening service. This was the more interesting to 
 myself, inasmuch as it was accompanied by a change 
 of scene, on two out of every three occasions. There 
 v.ere three meeting-houses in the town, and this 
 service was performed in each of them successively. 
 One of them was a somewhat time-worn and heavy- 
 looking fabric, having the aspect and character of a 
 by-gone age. The congregation here was usually 
 very small, as the minister— although an excellent 
 man, and of unquestionable ability, as he afterwards 
 showed in the way of authorship — was far from being 
 an " eloquent orator."' This paucity of hearers was, 
 however, rather agreeable than otherwise to my feel- 
 ings ; for the place had a much more quiet and sug- 
 gestive appearance than if it had been better attended. 
 Some of its large, arch-like windows looked out upon 
 a burying-ground belonging to the "Society of 
 Friends."' This was a spot that I loved to look at — 
 shut out as it was, and still is, from the public gaze 
 by a rather antique-looking wall, and surrounded, or 
 nearly so, by rows of trees, while the ground itself 
 was covered with beautifully verdant turf. The re- 
 mains of the worthy people here reposing were laid 
 side by side, in regular order, without any kind of dis- 
 tinction. Here literally the "rich and the poor" 
 met together. One of the windows looked into the 
 garden of an aged clergyman of the Established 
 Church, whom I have occasionally seen in the act of 
 listening to the discourse of his dissenting brother. 
 But there was another window which, in a clear even- 
 ing, was beautifully illuminated by the soft rays of
 
 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. HI 
 
 the setting sun, and to a lively fancy seemed as 
 though it might be one of the portals of that city 
 where all is cloudless and resplendent light. 
 
 Of the other two fabrics I shall say but little ; they 
 were of more recent date than the one that I have 
 described, and had notliing about them adapted to 
 suggest romantic thoughts or feelings ; yet even in 
 these my ever-active fancy would sometimes call up, 
 and then amuse itself with, visions, shadowy and 
 fleeting indeed, yet to me delightful. In one of them 
 I was often pleased with the gentle and graceful 
 waving of some tall poplar-trees, which were visible 
 through the large windows, between which the pulpit 
 was placed : these, together with the windows, the 
 pulpit, and the officiating minister, were not unfre- 
 quentjy irradiated by the chastened light of the de- 
 clining sun, and then they seemed, in my view, as 
 if a glory fiom heaven had fallen upon them. These 
 faint outlines or shadowings-forth of the beautiful, 
 when viewed in connection with the exciting spectacle 
 of a large concourse of human beings assembled for 
 the purposes of religious worship, and perhaps just 
 then employed in 
 
 " Hymning tlieir Creator's praise,"' 
 were quite sufficient to carry my thoughts far beyond 
 the confines of this " visible diurnal sphere " — to fill 
 my imagination with images of an unseen, yet glorious 
 and beautiful world, and to fill me with ardent desires 
 to become one of its beatified inhabitants. At the 
 close of this service I usually walked in the fields, for 
 the double purpose of recreation and reflection. The 
 day wasclosed by a slight meal, and I retired to rest
 
 112 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAX. 
 
 with feelings of unalloyed satisfaction. Such were 
 my youthful Sundays, and such also, with but little 
 variation, were those of my riper years, except when 
 I resided in the midst of an overgrown city, or, as 
 subsequently was the case, when the charge of my 
 young children, together with the serious failure of 
 my health, imposed upon me the necessity of spend- 
 ing those invaluable days in a less pleasing, but, I 
 hope, not always in a less appropriate manner. It 
 was about this time (the spring of 1808) that I began 
 to be much concerned as to how I should get a 
 maintenance, should my life be continued. My health 
 was very far from being good : I was troubled with 
 an asthmatic affection, and my strength was unequal 
 to laborious work : hence I was led to perceive the 
 importance of getting an adequate knowledge of the 
 tailoring-trade, which — although 1 saw it to be a 
 wearying and unhealthy occupation, especially if 
 diligently worked at — I hoped would not be alto- 
 gether beyond my power. My master had promised 
 that I should learn it, if I could contrive to do so, in 
 the spare hours that might fall to my share. These, 
 however, were very few, seldom more than two or 
 three in the course of a long day ; and even these 
 were liable to many drawbacks, as I was frequently 
 taken from my work to run on errands on account of 
 either the house, the drapery-shop, or the tailors. I 
 was much disconcerted and sometimes a good deal 
 discouraged hereat ; yet I did not so far despond as 
 to give up my hopes of learning the trade, but re- 
 solved upon making a vigorous effort to gain so 
 desirable an end. I therefore immediately set about
 
 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 113 
 
 the business of saving, or rather of making, time for 
 working on the board. Here also, as in my former 
 exertions to get time for reading, I realized the truth 
 of the old proverb, "Where there 's a will there 's a 
 way ;" for being heartily willing, the icay soon pre- 
 sented itself: this was by working in overhours at my 
 other business. Thus, instead of cleaning the tailor's 
 shop, preparing fuel, and getting the furnace ready 
 in the morning, I did these and other needful things 
 at night, after the men had left off work ; by this 
 plan I secured an hour, in the best part of the day, 
 for learning to sew. In addition to this contrivance 
 I also rose yet earlier than before, in order to help 
 one of the workmen, who lived close at hand ; I 
 worked with him until it was time to go to the shop, 
 and by this means got both instruction and a little 
 money — sometimes as much as eightpence or ten- 
 pence, at the week's end— which was no unimportant 
 addition to the contents of my private purse. Besides 
 these plans, I adopted that of working at home 
 whenever an opportunity offered for so doing ; nor 
 did I always allow myself to make a holiday of even 
 the few red-letter-days that fell to my lot ; for I well 
 remember having worked on a Good Friday, a beau- 
 tifully fine day, which seemed almost audibly to 
 invite me into the green and delightful fields. On 
 that day I also contrived to amuse myself by com- 
 mitting to memory a large portion of Gray's beautiful 
 * Ode on Vicissitude.' 1 further remember to have 
 worked on other holidays — especially on that which, 
 in 1809, was kept in commemoration of the king 
 having entered upon the fiftieth year of his reign.
 
 llil MEMOIRS OF A ^VORKI^^G MAN. 
 
 By dint of persevering industry and attention, 
 aided by the good offices of several of the v.'orkmen, 
 I soon got such an insight into the business as 
 enabled me to be very useful upon the board. Ere 
 long my master sav? that my services there were more 
 profitable to him than they could be elsewhere ; and 
 thereiore he consented to hire another, but a younger, 
 boy, to do the greater part of the vpork which, pre- 
 viously, had chiefly employed my time. 1 also suc- 
 ceeded in my efforts to get an advance of wages, and 
 thus found myself in a position much more com- 
 fortable than that in which I had stood for the pre- 
 ceding three years. 
 
 I now had more leisure for reading, and also 
 greater facilities for getting books. Besides these 
 advantages I had that of being able to save a little 
 money for the purchase of clothes and other neces- 
 saries. It was at this time that I read the remaining 
 seven volumes of the ' Spectator ;' to which 1 added 
 the ' Rambler,' the ' Tatler,' and some others of the 
 " British Essayists." I also read the poetical works 
 of Milton, Addison, Goldsmith, Gray, Collins, Fal- 
 coner,' Pomfret, Akenside, Mrs. Rowe, with others 
 which I cannot now clearly call to mind. I re- 
 member, however, to have read Gay's poems. These 
 gave me more than usual satisfaction. I was much 
 amused with, his * Trivia, or the Art of Walking 
 London Streets ;' * but I was especially pleased with 
 
 * I have always practically observed the directions implied 
 in the following ^jassages of this amusing composition — ^I quote 
 from memory ; — 
 
 " Seek not from *prentice-boys to learn thy way ; 
 They 11 oft deceive and turn thy steps astray — 
 
 Ask
 
 MEMOIRS OF A WOIIXING MAX. 115 
 
 his admirably burlesque "pastorals." These just 
 squared with my humour, for I had then, as I have 
 ever had, an utter dislike to the sickening stuff that 
 is called pastoral poetry, where one is for ever en- 
 countering Daphnes, Delias, and Chloes, Damons and 
 Coi-ydons, with other equally odd or silly personages, 
 who give vent to as many tears, sighs, and groans, as 
 would have sufficed for Milton's imaginary lazar- 
 house. These fulsome compositions, not excepting 
 those of Virgil,* or the lauded ones of Shenstone, 
 had long been the 
 
 *' Objects of my implacable disgust." 
 
 With these feelings I was not sorry to stumble upon 
 such clever parodies, or rather burlesques, as are 
 those of Gay ; they struck me as being clever satires 
 upon productions equally affected and worthless. I 
 must not omit to mention the pleasure I derived 
 from reading a poem called ' The Village Curate,' 
 which, as I think, has fallen into unmerited oblivion. 
 In the course of my very desultory reading, I 
 perused ' BoswelFs Life of Dr. Johnson ;' which I 
 still consider to be a very amusing and instructive, 
 piece of biography. About this time I read also the 
 narratives of som.e eminent navigators and travellers ; 
 among the former were those of Cook, Perouse, and 
 Bougainville ; of the latter I chiefly remember those 
 
 Ask the grave tradesman to direct thee right, 
 He ne'er deceives but when he profits by 't."_, 
 " Who would of Watling-street the dangers share ' 
 When the broad pavement of Cheapside is near?" ' 
 
 * I hardly need say that my knowledge of these comes 
 through the medium of a translation.
 
 116 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAX. 
 
 of Bruce, Le Vaillant, and Weld. Mr. Weld's nar- 
 rative so deeply interested me, as to have well nigh 
 been the occasion of my emigrating to either the 
 United States or to Canada. The desire of seeing 
 these countries which was excited thereby re- 
 mained with me for some years : it was the cause of 
 my reading several works descriptive of North 
 America and the condition of its inhabitants.
 
 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 117 
 
 CHAPTER YI. 
 
 In this way I went on until the spring of 1810, 
 when, as I had made myself a fairly competent work- 
 man, and moreover, had considerably heated my 
 imagination, by reading and thinking a good deal 
 about London, I resolved to go thither in search of 
 work. My parents, but especially my mother, would 
 fain have dissuaded me from doing this ; and I have 
 sometimes wished that I had consented to forego the 
 gratification of my fancy for their sake. Their un- 
 easiness was the greater, because, at that time, two out 
 of their three sons were far from home, and not likely 
 soon to return. I would fain have avoided giving 
 them pain, but I was bent upon seeing the wonderful 
 town, of which I had formed what I soon found to 
 have been a somewhat extravagant notion : I did not, 
 indeed, expect to see houses covered with pancakes 
 instead of tiles ; nor to find that the streets were 
 paved either with gold or with penny-loaves ; but I 
 did, nevertheless, dream of what I never realized. 
 I had a half-formed notion of getting into society of 
 an intellectual character — somewhat resembling that 
 of which I had read in the ' Spectator,' the ' Rambler,' 
 and other books. I, however, forgot that my purse 
 would not allow me to be a visitor at Will's Coffee 
 House or at the Devil Tavern ; that I must, perforce, 
 put up with the accommodations of far humbler
 
 118 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAX. 
 
 places of entertainment, and there be associated with 
 men widely different in character, talents, and learn- 
 ing from Addison, Pope, and Steele, or Burke, 
 Johnson, and Goldsmith. In truth, there was not, at 
 that time, a single place in the metropolis — except 
 the rooms of the Debating Clubs — to which a working 
 man could resort, for the purposes of mental instruc- 
 tion or amusement. Though I had looked forward 
 to my London expedition with very pleasant anti- 
 cipations, yet, when the time for it came, my courage 
 somewhat failed me. As yet I had never been far 
 from home, nor absent from it for more than two or 
 three days at a time ; when therefore I was about to 
 leave both it and my parents, for an indefinite period, 
 I hesitated, and, when called to say "farewell," felt 
 it — for the first time in my experience — to be 
 
 " A word that makes us linger.'' 
 
 Since then I have, indeed, pronounced that sadly- 
 sounding word with feelings far more painful than 
 on that occasion, yet I know not that I have ever 
 spoken it with tenderer emotion. But for a foolish 
 dread of 
 
 ••' The world's laugh, 
 Which scarce the firin philosopher can scorn,'' 
 
 I should perhaps have decli.ied making the proposed 
 change. 
 
 As it was, however, I kept to my purpose, and, be- 
 coming amused by the prospects I beheld while tra- 
 velling, was, by the time I reached the 'place of my 
 destination, not very '* ill at ease." On reviewing 
 the step I had taken, I was, upon the whole, satisfied
 
 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 119 
 
 that it was a proper one. Now, however, I have 
 considerable doubt upon this point. I question whe- 
 ther my real interest was thereby promoted. I pro- 
 bably gained a little additional knowledge of both 
 the " world and the world's way« " by the change ; 
 but a wise ,man has said " He that increaseth know- 
 ledge increaseth sorrow," and, so far as my own ex- 
 perience goes upon this matter, I am much disposed 
 to think that he uttered a sober and weighty truth. 
 But let that pass : whether it were for good or for 
 evil, the change was made, nor can its consequences 
 be either altered or obviated : 
 
 " Whit hath been, spite of Jove himself, hath been." * 
 
 I must, however, leave these reflections, and go on 
 wuth my story. 
 
 My journey was unattended by any remarkable 
 incident. The country through which I passed is, in 
 general, a level tract, with no features of grandeur 
 or sublimity, and but few that are more than oi-di- 
 
 * Although I quote this line — seeing it answers nr.y pur- 
 jrose — I cio not fully approve of the seemingly irreverent man- 
 ner in which the poet is made to express himself. Where I 
 met with it I cannot well remember, but I think it was in 
 ' A Translation of the Odes, Satires, and Epistles of Horace,' 
 by Mr. Pye, the poet-laureate. I have an old copy of these 
 poems " done into English "' by Mr. Creech, in which tlie 
 sentiment is, I think, much more becomingly expressed. I 
 give it here that the reader may be able to judge between the 
 two renderings : — 
 
 " Let Jove to-morrow smiling rise. 
 Or let dark clouds spread o'er the skies : 
 He cannot make the pleasures void, 
 Nor sour the sweets 1 have enjoyed, 
 Nor call that back which winged hours have borne away." 
 Horace, ode xxix., book iii.
 
 120 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 
 
 narily beautiful. There are, however, some pictu- 
 resque spots with which I was well pleased, and the 
 more so because to me they had the charm of no- 
 Telty. I approached London by one of those long- 
 drawn suburban avenues which — like the far-reaching 
 arms of some huge polypus — stretch out their weari- 
 some length from every corner of the metropolis. 
 Here I caught the first glimpse of metropolitan 
 scenes and manners, and I must confess that, al- 
 though I witnessed much that amused me, I also 
 both saw and heard not a little that was repulsive to 
 my feelings and offensive to my external senses. I 
 say nothing of the "villainous smells" that assailed 
 my olfactory nerves, further than that they formed a 
 striking contrast to the pure and oft-times fragrant 
 air which 1 had been accustomed to breathe. Yet I 
 must not be severe upon the atmosphere of London 
 —strangely compounded as it is of all sorts of hete- 
 rogeneous gases — as it certainly then suited my much 
 disordered and over-sensitive lungs, and that to so 
 great an extent as to preserve me from the visitations 
 of my asthmatic complaint. 
 
 ^ On entering the " Modern Babylon " I was almost 
 confounded by its " huge uproar," together with the 
 incessant bustle and hurry in which I found myself 
 suddenly involved. My previous notions of London 
 had not, indeed, been quite so erroneous as were 
 those of the Roman peasant in regard to the " Eter- 
 nal City," yet, although I could not exclaim with 
 him, 
 
 '•' Fool that I was, I thought Imperial Rome 
 Like market-towns Cwhere once a-week we come 
 And thither drive our tender lambs from homej/'
 
 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAX. 121 
 
 I certainly did not expect to witness so great a con- 
 trast as was here presented to all that I had been ac- 
 customed to see in my native place. 
 
 I was glad to escape from the hubbub and confu- 
 sion of the streets, and therefore made the best of my 
 \^'uy to my intended lodgings. These were situated 
 in an obscure alley in the neighbourhood of Moor- 
 fields, and proved to be almost as quiet a retreat as 
 I could have wished for. In this nook I heard only 
 a subdued and not unpleasing sound, instead of the 
 tumultuous and almost overpowering noise of the 
 crowded and busy thoroughfares. Even at this dis- 
 tance of time I look back upon the many tranquil 
 hours I spent in this humble dwelling with feelings 
 of mingled satisfaction and regret. I yet well re- 
 member the vine and the lilac-tree, together with the 
 few flowers that found a place in one corner of the 
 yard, which was dignified with the name of a " gar- 
 den/' It was truly a thriftless spot, yet it had charms 
 for its possessors, as it served to remind them that 
 Nature still lived, and was still arrayed in robes of 
 " sight-refreshing green." And there were persons, 
 also, with whom I here occasionally came into contact 
 who pleased me not a little. Among these was a dimi- 
 nutive and aged woman, who, after having for many 
 years worked in a stove-grate manufactory, had become 
 an itinerant vendor of vegetables and shell-fish. The 
 shrill and plaintive tones in which she announced her 
 commodities — whether they were '■' Jine Cos lettuce,'" or 
 " lily-white muscles " — were, to my ear, far from being 
 unpleasing, indeed they often struck me as being 
 " Most tnusical; most melancholy," 
 
 F
 
 122 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAX. 
 
 I had two fellow-lodgers, one of whom was a me- 
 dical student, a man of considerable attainments and 
 of gentlemanly manners, but he was very poor, and 
 nearly if not altogether unbefriended. He was then 
 strugglmg hard to attain so much anatomical and 
 other professional knowledge as would qualify him to 
 serve in the army, where at that time there was a 
 great demand for the services of medical men. The 
 difficulties and privations that he encountered in 
 prosecuting his purpose were, indeed, sufficient to 
 have dismayed any but the most fearless and deter- 
 mined spirit. They were, in good truth, both nume- 
 rous and weighty, yet he bore up manfully against 
 them, and ultimately gained his point. Soon after 
 his appointment to the situation of an army hospital 
 mate he was ordered upon foreign service, and set 
 out to join the forces then in Portugal under the com- 
 mand of Sir Arthur ^Vellesley. 
 
 On the day after my arrival in London I went out 
 in quest of employment. This I did in the way which 
 at that time was the most in favour with my fellow- 
 craftsmen, as being thought both more respectable 
 and more profitable than that of waiting upon mas- 
 ters to ask for work. This was by causing my name 
 to be entered in the call-book of a tailors' trade-club, 
 which was held, as all such clubs then were, at a 
 public-house — thence denominated a "house of 
 call." To these houses the masters applied when 
 they wanted workmen. They could here procure, if 
 needful, a fresh supply of men three times per day, 
 viz., at six o'clock in the morning, then at nine 
 o'clock, and again at one o'clock in the afternoon.
 
 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 123 
 
 The master had the power of discharging a workman 
 at his pleasure, after having given him three hours' 
 work or wages. Thus the men could have as many 
 as three masters in the course of one day. 
 
 I was called to work during the very day on which 
 I had my name entered on the call-book, but it was 
 merely for the remainder of that day, as my master 
 was himself a journeyman who warited a little help 
 about an occasional job of master-work. Here I was, 
 in due form, invested with all the shop-board rights 
 and privileges of the craft, by paying what was tech- 
 nically called my " footing," i. e., in plain English, 
 by treating my workfellows to a fair allowance of 
 porter, — a practice which I subsequently set my face 
 against, and with much success. At night I was dis- 
 charged, and again repaired to the " house of call,'* 
 where I received orders to go to work at six o'clock 
 on the following morning for a master residing in 
 Hatton Garden. 
 
 1 now felt myself at ease. I had fairly launched 
 ray tiny bark upon the broad expanse of life's ocean, 
 and I was resolved, if possible, to make a profitable 
 voyage. With this view I applied myself to work 
 with all practicable diligence. It required my ut- 
 most efforts to get through the allotted amount of a 
 day's work within the appointed time— for the time 
 as well as the amount of work was strictly regulated. 
 This daily task was considerably too much for any 
 one but a clever and very quick hand, but then, as it 
 was fixed by the workmen themselves, there was 
 neither room for complaining of the masters, nor any 
 good end to be answered by grumbling to the men. 
 
 F 2
 
 124 MEMOIRS OF A -SVORKIXG MAX. 
 
 I therefore took the matter quietly, and did my best. 
 This task was, in shop-board phrase, called '-the 
 log," and a very appropriate name it truly was, for 
 the ta.sk was indeed a heavy one. Yet, as it showed 
 the equitable principles upon which our trade-unions 
 were founded, — in providing that the largest possible 
 amount of labour should be given in exchange for 
 the good wages demanded, — it was generally ap- 
 proved of even by such as, like myself, were not fully 
 equal to the labour it imposed. 
 
 "When I received my first week's wages, amount- 
 ing to thirty-three shillings, I was not a little pleased. 
 I felt that I had fairly performed the part of a man, 
 and my self-love prompted me to look upon so meri- 
 torious a personage as myself with more respectful 
 feelings than theretofore. My week's wages was a 
 larger sum than I ever before could, at one time, call 
 my own : I was, therefore, comparatively a rich man. 
 Yet, after all, I would gladly have taken three shil- 
 lings per week less in wages, if thereby I could have 
 escaped from the pressure of that incessant, and to 
 me exhausting toil which I was compelled to un- 
 dergo, in order to keep up to "the log." My strength, 
 like that of many others, was not equal to this toil, — 
 especially in so hot and otherwise unhealthy a place 
 as is a tailor's workshop, in which I was confined 
 for full twelve hours per day, the hours of working 
 being from six o'clock in the morning until seven 
 o'clock in the evening, one hour only being sub- 
 tracted for dinner. As to time for breakfast, or any 
 other refreshment, there was not allowed even a mo- 
 ment.
 
 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 125 
 
 I determined to save some money while woik was 
 plentiful, and therefore did not indulge myself much 
 in sight-seeing. Yet I contrived to see something of 
 the metropolitan curiosities in the mornings and 
 evenings of the six working-days, as also on the Sun- 
 days : to which were added about two days when I 
 was not wanted by my master. In these scraps of 
 time I caught a glimpse of the principal public build- 
 ings, the river, and the shipping ; together with the 
 docks and their warehouses. I also ventured upon 
 the expense of paying the accustomed fees in order 
 to gain admission to St. Paul's Cathedral and West- 
 minster Abbey. 
 
 I had neither courage nor curiosity sufficient to 
 ■lead me higher in the ascent of St. Paul's than to the 
 gallery that surrounds the top of the dome. From 
 this point of view, however, I had as extensive a 
 prospect as I could well wish for ; but I must confess 
 that it did not give me any great satisfaction. Per- 
 haps I ought to state that I had unfitted myself for 
 pleasure of this sort by the labour of ascending the 
 multitude of stairs leading to this gallery. In addi- 
 tion to the drawback caused by weariness I had no 
 telescope, and, therefore, could see nothing very 
 distinctly of the surrounding country ; while what I 
 . could see clearly was not much to my taste. I saw 
 no beauty in the confused, shapeless mass beneath me, 
 made up of dirty house-roofs, with their innumerable 
 ranges of " red-hot chimney-pots," together with the 
 spires of churches, and the tall chimneys of the manu- 
 factories on the banks of the river. Even this, at the 
 elevation on which I was placed, had lost all its mag-
 
 126 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAX. 
 
 nificence, and might not inaptly be compared to a 
 silver thread running through a web of dirty sack- 
 cloth ; or, to a " \vounded snake," dragging " its slow 
 length along" between the huge, misshapen piles 
 that overhung, or abutted upon, its banks. Alto- 
 gether 1 was less gratified with what I here saw than 
 I had expected to be, and from that day forwards 
 have never felt any wish to look again upon this far- 
 famed panoramic view, unless I could do so with 
 less weariness of body, and with a greater power of 
 distinguishing distant objects. 
 
 Of the structure itself I purposely forbear giving an 
 opinion ; not only because of my inability to criticise 
 works of art, but also because I suspect myself of 
 having some unreasonable prejudice against the adop- 
 tion of any other style than that Avhich is commonly 
 called the Gothic, for ecclesiastical edifices. For 
 myself, I greatly prefer the latter style in buildings 
 consecrated to Christian worship, although I am quite 
 willing to believe that the noble edifice referred to is 
 deserving of all the commendation it has ever re- 
 ceived from competent judges. 
 
 Whatever was the cause, I certainly surveyed the 
 Abbey of Westminster with feelings far more satis- 
 factory and pleasing than were those produced by 
 looking over the Cathedral of St. Paul. The antiquity 
 of this venerable structure ; the style of its architec- 
 ture ; the characters and pursuits of the numerous and 
 illustrious persons whose ashes repose under its roof; 
 the variety, expressiveness, and general appropriate- 
 ness of their sepulchral monuments ; together w^ith the 
 almost unbroken stillness of the place, and the quiet-
 
 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 127 
 
 ing influence of the subdued light admitted through 
 its magnificent, storied windows : all these contributed 
 to inspire me with elevating thoughts, and to produce 
 emotions at once solemn and tranquillizing. 
 
 But it was during the celebration of divine service 
 that I more especially loved to visit these celebrated 
 places. At these times there was, over and above 
 the emotions usually produced, those which were 
 awakened by the presence of a concourse of people ; 
 by the solemn, yet delighttu], music of the organ, 
 which to me is the noblest of musical instruments; 
 and by the melodious voices of the choristers.* All 
 these conspired to produce feelings of a most grateful 
 and appropriate order, and seldom failed to call to my 
 remembrance the following beautiful lines of Thom- 
 son : — 
 
 •* In swarming cities vast, 
 Assembled men to the deep organ join 
 The Lnig-resounding voice, oft breaking clear 
 At solemn pauses tliroiigh the swelling bass, 
 And, as each mingling Hame increases each. 
 In one united ardour rise to heaven." 
 
 * I cannot but wish that there was a more full and general 
 use made of the powerful aid of music — both vocal and instru- 
 mental — in the celebration of public worship. As to instru- 
 mental music, I have long considered the arguments commonly 
 used against its being thus employed to be as nothing when 
 compared with those which may be adduced in its favour. 
 Abstract opinions ought not, as I think, to supersede the au- 
 thority of facts ; and, therefore, I conclude that the undoubted 
 practice of the ancient churches, whether Jewish or Christian, 
 together with a due recognition of the almost miraculous ])ower 
 of music over the human mind, and the almost universal pas- 
 jsion of mankind for the delight aflbrded by this divine art, form 
 a more than sufficient warrant for its constant and ample use 
 in the sacred services of public worship.
 
 128 MEMOIRS OF A M'ORKING MAX. 
 
 In passing, I venture to express a doubt as to the 
 fitness of such edifices as are consecrated to the wor- 
 ship of the " Prince of Peace " for the buryins^-places 
 of military and naval heroes. These great men doubt- 
 less merited all the respect which is shown to their 
 mortal remains ; and I am fully willing that their 
 names and deeds should be held in unfading remem- 
 brance, and regarded with undiminished honour. 
 Yet I cannot help thinking that these objects would 
 be equally well attained, and that too in a far more 
 appropriate way than now, by depositing their bodies 
 in a public cemetery, or in burying-grounds set apart 
 for the exclusive use of themselves and their humbler 
 companions in arms. 
 
 But the Sunday was my most interesting time — my 
 true holiday — when I felt at liberty to go where I 
 pleased, and had no unpleasant thoughts about the 
 loss of time. On this day I usually walked to a con- 
 siderable distance from my lodging, in order that I 
 might see something new, and also get a view of the 
 country, my relish for which was rather heightened 
 than otherwise by my being, on the other days of the 
 week, debarred from seeing what I so much loved. 
 In the course of these excursions I contrived to visit 
 nearly the whole of the suburban villages, and, in 
 general, was fully repaid for my labour by what I 
 saw, either of Nature's glorious scenes, or of the 
 humbler productions of her handmaid, Art. 
 
 While walking to Hampstead, I strayed into a 
 copse not far from my road, where I seated myself 
 upon the trunk of a tree, and read, with no small 
 pleasure, several of the papei^s contained in that
 
 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 129 
 
 highly entertaining book, ' Sturm's Reflections on 
 the Works of God.' As I read these, surrounded by 
 many of the objects upon which they so pleasingly 
 descant, I was enabled to look " through nature up 
 to nature's God ; " to hold, as it were, converse with 
 that glorious and beneficent Being, and to recognize 
 Him as a father and a friend. 
 
 I ought to observe that these rambles were not 
 allowed to prevent my regular and timely attendance 
 upon public worship. In my choice of places wherein 
 to join in this delightful service I did not restrict my- 
 self to any one sect of professing Christians. Even 
 then I felt it to be impossible to be a party-man. 
 Although I had been brought up among those who 
 dissented from the National Church Establishment, 
 and, moreover, had often heard of its alleged abuses, 
 or defects, I nevertheless frequently joined in its 
 public services with unaffected satisfaction. Not- 
 withstanding whatever I had learned of an unfavour- 
 able tendency in regard to the Church and its mini- 
 sters. I could not help seeing that there was much in 
 the first that deserved ray cordial assent, and also, 
 that there were many of the latter who justly claimed 
 my unaffected reverence and esteem. These percep- 
 tions were useful to me at the time, and have con- 
 tinued to be so until now. I cannot adequately ex- 
 press the sense I have of the courtesy, the urbanity, 
 and the genuine kindness with which I have been 
 treated by not a few of these excellent men, and ac- 
 complished gentlemen. But, apart from all personal 
 considerations, I am fully persuaded that the clergy 
 of the Church of England are, as a community, de- 
 
 r 3
 
 130 MEMOIRS OF A ^VORKING MAN. 
 
 serving of the most sincere respect, and the fullest 
 confidence of the laity, whether Episcopalians or 
 Dissenters. As to myself, I am not careful about 
 either standards of doctrine, or modes of worship, or 
 rules of discipline. To whichsoever of these diverse 
 matters any one may give the preference is to me 
 quite indifferent ; all I wish for is to see a practical 
 attention to the duties which the Christian religion 
 enjoins, and a fair amount of resemblance, in regard 
 to Christian charity, between the professed disciple 
 and his beneficent Master. 
 
 But I am wandering wide of ray immediate object, 
 and therefore leave this subject, in order to take up 
 the thread of my story. In the course of my attend- 
 ance on public worship I visited many of the princi- 
 pal churches and chapels in the metropolis and its 
 suburbs, where I heard discourses from the greater 
 number of the preachers who at that time were cele- 
 brated for their learning, eloquence, or other pulpit 
 qualifications. I had no restraint upon my move- 
 ments, for I kept no company with any one. There 
 were, indeed, two or three young men whom I 
 esteemed ; but their tastes, or duties, called them 
 into a different path from that in which it was either 
 my wish or my business to walk ; consequently, I was 
 left perfectly free to choose for myself. As to choos- 
 ing companions from among my fellow-workmen, it 
 was wholly out of the question ; for, although I took 
 care to be upon civil terms with every one of them, as 
 indeed I was bound to do, yet this was a very differ- 
 ent matter from making them my associates when 
 out of the workshop. I respected some of them as
 
 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 131 
 
 fellow-craftsmen and shop-mates, but I knew not 
 one whom I could choose as a friend. Their habits, 
 language, and modes of thinking were alike quite 
 uncongenial with my own, and " how can two," not 
 to mention a greater number, " walk together, except 
 they be agreed ?" Thus I was a solitary being ; but 
 I was neither an idle nor a melancholy one. I found 
 much occupation, and that too of a pleasant kind, for 
 all the leisure time that I could command. Some- 
 times, indeed, I wished for more leisure ; and, had I 
 not been bent upon " making hay while the sun 
 shone," so that 1 might be prepared for a " rainy 
 day," I should probably have gratified this wish. As 
 it was, however, I made myself contented during the 
 six working days with such fragments of time as I 
 could pick out of my walks to and from the shop, and 
 from my dinner-hours. The Sundays were, as I have 
 said, wholly my own ; and 1 took care to make the 
 most of them. After all my contrivances I found but 
 little convenience for reading, except on the Sunday. 
 I always kept a book in my pocket, that it might be 
 at hand in case 1 should find a few spare minutes. 
 In general I managed to read a few pages while going 
 to and from the workshop. This, however, was a 
 somewhat difficult affair, as my path led me through 
 some of the busiest streets and places in the city; 
 and I hardly need say that these are not the most 
 favourable localities for a thoughtful reader, especially 
 if what he chooses to read demands any thing like 
 close attention. It was while standing at a book- 
 stall that I read with the most advantage. I took 
 care to avail myself of this as often, and for as long a
 
 132 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAX. 
 
 time, as possible ; and from these out-of-door libraries 
 picked up a few — perhaps a good many — scraps of 
 useful or amusing information. When I fell out of 
 work — which was about the end of July — my first 
 step was to put myself on " short allowance," in order 
 that I might not too rapidly lessen my resources. 
 Perhaps I carried my abstemiousness too far for the 
 due security of health ; but the event proved that, in 
 all other respects, my strict parsimony had been a 
 ver)' prudent matter.
 
 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 133 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 I HAD long felt a great repugnance against what 
 is called "tramping" in quest of work; as I had 
 seen much of the misery consequent thereon in the 
 wretchedly-clad and half-starved persons of many 
 among the numerous " trampers " who had, from time 
 to time, visited my first master's workshop, for the 
 purpose of getting pecuniary relief from the journey- 
 men. 1 therefore resolved to "keep my standing,'* 
 even if I did not "take a penny ; " being of opinion 
 that, if I must submit to be pinched in regard to food, 
 it would be far easier to bear the said pinching while 
 in a state of comparative repose, than it would be 
 while wandering about the country in vagrant wretch- 
 edness. 
 
 I now spent my time in walking about the town, in 
 order to see all the curiosities that might be looked 
 at without charge. I was never tired of gazing upon 
 the noble river, with its " forest of mast<," and took 
 care to get a view of it from as many different points 
 as I could. On one occasion I took what then seemed 
 the rather adventurous step of crossing the stream. 
 I was on the Isle of Dogs, and, catching from thence 
 a glimpse of Greenwich Hospital, my desire to see 
 this magnificent place to better advantage got the 
 better of my fears, and thus I was induced to com.mit 
 myself to the care of a jolly waterman, and to the
 
 134 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAX. 
 
 mercy of the broad river. I may just add that I had 
 a full recompense for the perils of the voyage in the 
 amusement I found while looking at the Hospital and 
 its -weather-beaten inmates. 
 
 In the chapel I was struck by what I thought to 
 be the exquisite beauty of the marble columns that 
 support the organ-gallery ; and by the very appro- 
 priate subject of the large picture which forms the 
 altar-piece. Of the walk I had in the beautiful park 
 adjacent I will only say, that, for the sake of freely 
 enjoying that privilege in my old age, I seem as if I 
 could persuade myself to encounter the perils of the 
 ocean during my younger years. 
 
 Another of my favourite places of resort was the 
 Royal Exchange, with its convenient piazzas. Under 
 these I spent many a tranquil hour, although in the 
 immediate neighbourhood of thronged and busy 
 thoroughfares. I found a good deal of amusement in 
 running over the numerous and greatly diverse articles 
 which were there advertised for sale or hire in placards 
 of equal diversity. I sometimes remained during 
 'Change time, when the foreign merchants, some of 
 whom wore their national costume, led my imagina- 
 tion into distant lands, among strange scenes and yet 
 stranger people, among which it wandered until the 
 bell of the porter announcing the close of the business 
 hours awoke it from its pleasing dreams. The time 
 passed away pleasantly for about a fortnight, when, 
 as I was sauntering along Fleet Street, my attention 
 was arrested by a large map of my native county. I 
 surveyed it with composure until I came to the mark 
 that showed the situation of the town from whence I
 
 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 135 
 
 came, upon which I was attacked by that very power- 
 ful disorder of the fancy called the "home-sickness." 
 This continued to grow upon me until it threatened to 
 be incurable except by the influence of the objects 
 whose shadows had been the means of producing it. 
 In this predicament I was not long in determining 
 what to do. My little affairs were immediately settled ; 
 I left the metropolis, with all its attractions, and soon 
 found myself once more at home. 
 
 It was autumn, which, as I have already stated, has 
 ever been to me the most delightful and congenial 
 of all the seasons. It was at this time the more wel- 
 come because of my having previously been a good 
 deal shut up in places where the atmosphere was un- 
 wholesome, and the prospect, if there were any, far 
 from being a pleasant one. I now, however, could 
 " breathe and walk again " in and among fresher and 
 fairer scenes. 
 
 When at home I usually retired to my garret, where 
 I employed myself in either reading or working. It 
 was truly a humble and homely apartment, but it was 
 in my view a very pleasant nook. In reading I usu- 
 ally sat in the Oriental, or, to use a less pompous 
 word, in the tailor's posture, and thus had no need of 
 either chair or table. My olfactory nerves meanwhile 
 were regaled by the smell of sundry roots and herbs 
 which were stowed in this room for the purpose of 
 being properly preserved for future use. Among 
 these the onion had a prominent if not a pre-emi- 
 nent place, to my great satisfaction, for it was one of 
 my favourite roots in regard both to its flavour and 
 odour. I was rarely idle, for when tired of reading I
 
 136 MEMOIBS OF A WORKING MAX. 
 
 fell to tailoring, having long before that time learned 
 
 that 
 
 '•' Absence of occupation Is not rest,"' 
 
 but rather a source of almost intolerable weariness. 
 
 The books I read at this time related chiefly to 
 North America. Among the chief of them were 
 Ramsay's ' History of the American Revolution,' 
 Smith's ' Travels in Canada and the United States,' 
 and Ppa'kinson's ' Travels in North America.' 
 
 The tailoring work to which I have referred being 
 finished, I tried to procure regular work at some one 
 of the shops in the town. I succeeded, however, but 
 very indifferently, because it was then the season of 
 the year in which cucumbers are said to be vended 
 at the rate of two for a penny, when, according to 
 the averment of the Covent-Garden-Market ladies, 
 " tailors, twice as many," may be had for the like 
 sum. In this dilemma I resolved, for once, to break 
 my rule as regarded " tramping," and accordingly 
 walked to a town about sixteen miles distant in search 
 of employment. My journey was bootless in respect 
 of its main object, yet I did not think that the time 
 spent in it was thrown away, inasmuch as I saw a 
 good deal of what gave me pleasure, although it was 
 neither grand, novel, nor eminently beautiful. There 
 was, however, much that I thought to partake of that 
 character w^hich is called " picturesque," and there- 
 fore I could not fail to be amused, for I have always 
 loved to look at either a similar landscape or at what- 
 ever fairly represents it. 
 
 On my way homeward I discovered that I had 
 overrated my physical ability when I undertook a
 
 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 137 
 
 walk of more than thirty-two miles in one day, in 
 weather rather warmer than common. Before I had 
 got more than four miles on my journey I became 
 very ill, and was quite unable to proceed. In this 
 dilemma I contrived to reach a neighbouring ale- 
 house, where I hoped to get some rest, for I was 
 much worn by fatigue. The landlady was a kind- 
 hearted woman, and therefore freely accommodated 
 me with a bed, not regarding the danger there might 
 be of my becoming both a troublesome and an un- 
 profitable inmate. After getting two or three hours' 
 repose, I was so far refreshed as to warrant my at- 
 tempting to prosecute my journey. I thankfully as 
 well as cheerfully paid the charge made by my hostess, 
 amounting to about threepence, and again turned my 
 steps towards home, where I arrived in a better 
 plight than I could have expected. 
 
 When I had spent about seven weeks with ray 
 parents, I was disturbed by the preparations then 
 making for balloting men to serve in the militia. I 
 deprecated the life of a soldier, and this on several 
 accounts. Among these was the conscientious ob- 
 jection I felt to war in the abstract, and the pain I 
 endured on witnessing, as I often had, the direful 
 effects of warlike operations, even when my own 
 countrymen were the victorious combatants. I was 
 moreover unfit to be the bearer of arms, as I had 
 neither bodily strength nor " martial build " sufficient 
 to carry me through the hardships of even a militia- 
 man's duty, besides which my disposition, tastes, and 
 habits were such as to fill me with dislike for the noise 
 and fatigue, the turbulence and the restlessness, of a
 
 138 MEMOIRS OF A AVORKIXG MAX. 
 
 military occupation. It was therefore but natural that 
 I should look for some loophole through which to 
 escape the perils of the ballot. On doing this I dis- 
 covered one which seemed likely to answer my pur- 
 pose. As I had long been afflicted by spasmodic 
 asthma, I concluded that I had sufficient ground of 
 exemption from military service. Great therefore was 
 my surprise, when, on applying for a medical certifi- 
 cate of my untitness for this service, I was refused one, 
 althou2:h the gentleman to whom I applied knew 
 something of my physical state, and moreover told 
 me that he thought I was inadequate to a soldiers 
 duties. This refusal made me resolve to change my 
 residence before the coming of the balloting-day. I 
 therefore again left my parents, and sought a home in 
 London, where I hoped to be secure from further 
 molestation about soldiership, and all other matters 
 connected therewith. Herein I was not disappointed, 
 for I had no trouble on these accounts so long as I 
 remained in the metropolis. 
 
 On my revisiting London I took lodgings in the 
 same house, and thus far I was tolerably at home. 
 Trade, however, continued to be very dull, so that_I 
 could not procure employment except a few trifling 
 jobs on my own account. Thus I had more than 
 enough time for my other purposes. In good truth, 
 I had much more than I desired to have, or than was 
 at all consistent with my well-being, yet as there was 
 no help for it, I endeavoured to be contented. I era- 
 ployed the greater part of it in reading and walking ; 
 and in order to see as much as I could I varied my 
 walks ; but my favourite haunts were, as before, the
 
 • 'memoirs of a working man. 139 
 
 Royal Exchange, and the banks of the river below 
 London Bridge. Sometimes 1 rambled westward, and 
 then I rarely omitted visiting Westminster Abbey for 
 the purpose of seeing the various interesting objects 
 in Poets' Corner. I did not then know of the Cloisters, 
 or I should have availed myself of the facility they 
 afford for a quiet walk. There was free access given 
 to that part of the Abbey which I have named, other- 
 wise my visits there would have been both " few and 
 far between." As it was, however, I put no check 
 upon my wishes, but often spent an hour or two in 
 quietly contemplating the monuments which either 
 public esteem or private affection had there placed 
 in memory of departed genius, learning, or moral 
 worth. It is a place in which, as it seems to me, 
 there may be learned much both of an admonitory 
 and an encouraging character, in which there are 
 numerous and affecting intimations concerning the 
 " vanity of human wishes," and the utter insignifi- 
 cance of all that men deem " good or great," unless 
 it be connected with the practice of moral virtue, and 
 therefore bearing upon the interests of another and a 
 nobler life. 
 
 In these western rambles I sometimes looked into 
 the courts of law and equity. In the latter I had one 
 day an opportunity of hearing several long and dry 
 harangues respecting some houses which were claimed 
 by different parties. I was amused by the seeming 
 inattention of the Lord Chancellor (Eldon), as I also 
 was by the contrast between his sombre habiliments 
 and the parchment-like hue of his face. When, how- 
 ever, it came to his turn to speak, I was much sur-
 
 140 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAX. 
 
 prised by his clear recapitulation of what had been 
 said — stripping it of all its verbosity and tautology ; 
 and I was so much pleased by hearing his earnest 
 deprecation of a Chancery suit in the case before him, 
 that I ever afterwards felt a high respect for his Lord- 
 ship, as being an equitable as well as an equity 
 judge. 
 
 I have noticed more than once my predilection for 
 visiting the Royal Exchange. My chosen time for 
 these visits vras that between the hours of ten and 
 one o'clock, during which hours the piazzas were but 
 thinly attended, while the great area of the place was 
 wholly unoccupied. Here, as I have already partly 
 hinted, I found a comparatively quiet spot, to which 
 I was for the time glad to retreat, in order that I 
 might get out of the incessant bustle and the stunning 
 confusion of the crowded streets, which sometimes 
 were more than I could endure without a sense of 
 pain and weariness. 
 
 Some one has said that " a great city is a great 
 solitude," and such I found London to be, notwith- 
 standing the vast stream of human beings which filled 
 and almost overflowed its public ways, 
 
 " From early morn to evening's latest hour." 
 Many a time have I wandered through most of the 
 principal streets and other thoroughfares without 
 seeing even one person whom I could recognise, 
 much less any of " the old familiar faces," the sight 
 of which is so pleasant an ingredient in the cup of 
 life to one whose lot is cast among strangers. Thus, 
 in the capital of my native country, I have sometimes 
 felt- almost as lonesome and friendless as were the
 
 MEMOIRS OP A WORKING MAN. 141 
 
 natives of China or Hindostan, many of whom were 
 at that time to be found in the avenues of the me- 
 tropolis. 
 
 This sense of loneliness was frequently accompanied 
 by feelings of vexation on witnessing the indifference 
 of the strong and active passengers to either the safety 
 or the convenience of such as were less robust and 
 vigorous than themselves. I have often seen pain 
 inflicted upon the sickly and the infirm by those who 
 seemed to be strangers to pain, and moreover strangers 
 to that sympathy with suffering humanity which con- 
 stitutes so fine a part of man's moral nature, and 
 which a personal knowledge of affliction is adapted 
 to call into action. In most of these cases there was 
 probably no intention of doing wrong, yet the wrong 
 was done, and that too without any expression of 
 regret on the part of the doer. This it was that pro- 
 voked me, as being indicative not so much of thought- 
 lessness as of heartless selfishness. The injured person 
 was left without even the poor recompense of an 
 apology. It seemed to be the offender's only care to 
 get away as quickly as possible, in order thereby to 
 avoid a claim upon his purse, or lest he should miss 
 the object upon which his heart appeared to be so 
 earnestly set that he was impelled to pursue it at all 
 risks. Whatever this object w^as, it was pursued with 
 as much eagerness as if the fate of a universe had 
 been depending upon its attainment. 
 
 While I was angry at incidents like "these, I was 
 often a witness of such as affected me with mournful 
 feelings. I could not look upon the many wretched- 
 looking people whom I everywhere saw without com-
 
 142 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAX. 
 
 miserating their destitute condition; and this feeling 
 was the more painful because of my inability to give 
 them any efficient help. I refer not here to the class 
 of sturdy and clamorous mendicants whose well- 
 conditioned although ragged and dirty persons gave 
 the lie to all their melancholy tales of impending 
 starvation, but to the hapless beings who moved 
 silently along, " with faltering steps and slow," bear- 
 ing upon their faces the marks of hopeless grief, and 
 exhibiting in their much-worn yet decent attire the 
 signs of their having formerly seen better days. Such 
 desolate people as these may at any time be seen in 
 the streets of London by him who takes only the 
 small trouble of looking about him with an observant 
 eye. They clamour not for relief; but while famine 
 and cold and sorrow are performing their work of de- 
 solation upon them, they bear their heavy load with- 
 out obtruding themselves upon the notice of the 
 passers-by. I have looked at such evidently famish- 
 ing persons with feelings of deep sympathy on their 
 account, mingled, at times, with the melancholy 
 thought that a similarly destitute state might one 
 day be mine. 
 
 It was on accounts like these that I sometimes felt 
 no pleasure in perambulating the high-ways — much 
 less the by-ways — of the metropolis ; and would gladly 
 have escaped for awhile into some less beaten and 
 more tranquil paths than those in which there were 
 so many saddening spectacles ; and where, moreover, 
 the 
 
 " Ever- moving myriads seem'd to say, 
 * Go — thou art nought to us, nor we to thee — away." "'
 
 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAX. 143 
 
 Yet there were times in which these feelings were 
 not so fully awakened, and when, therefore, I could 
 iind both amusement and acceptable instruction in 
 these much-thronged avenues. At these seasons they 
 seemed to present an open book, upon whose broad 
 and diversified pages, even he who ran might see in- 
 scribed many an instructive lesson of practical know- 
 ledge. I need not say that these lessons- were not all 
 of the same import. Some were animating or encou- 
 raging ; others were simply prudential ; while others 
 were expressive of earnest admonition or of solemn 
 warning. All of them, however, were powerfully im- 
 pressive, because they were living lessons made up 
 of the combined aspects, sayings, doings, and states 
 of sentient beings — of men, women, and children — 
 almost without number, and derived from almost 
 every region, of the inhabited earth — a vast and 
 widely-varied multitude, drawn together by that 
 powerful and ever-working impulse, which, in all 
 times and places, leads man to seek the society of his 
 fellow-man. For myself, I was both an earnest and 
 an unwearied reader of these " living epistles ;" but 
 with what success I venture not to say. I may, how- 
 ever, safely affirm that if they failed to instruct me, 
 they did not fail to afford me much harmless amuse- 
 ment. 
 
 I now turn to subjects upon which I hope to be 
 less querulous than in some of the preceding remarks. 
 I was at this time amusing myself with some day- 
 dreams about emigrating to the United States of 
 America ; but, while thus engaged, I did not forget 
 matters nearer home and of more immediate interest.
 
 144 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 
 
 I therefore continued daily to look out for work, but 
 still without success. This gave me considerable un- 
 easiness, and the greater because my stock of money 
 was by this time a good deal reduced. To meet this 
 exigence, I still further reduced my expenditure ; so 
 that my charges for living were about as low as those ■ 
 of an inmate of a poor-house. It may not be -amiss 
 to present the reader with my usual bill of fare. The 
 account for one day will suffice, as I allowed of no 
 high-days or holidays. Even the slightest expense 
 that was not indispensably needful, was carefully 
 avoided. For breakfast I had a penny roll and half 
 a pint of porter. This I took at a publichouse — for 
 two reasons : first, that I might have an opportunity 
 of looking at the morning newspaper ; and further, 
 that I might have the comfort of sitting by a good' 
 fire— for the wintry season was not far off, and the 
 mornings were already cold. As an impartial and 
 faithful narrator, I am bound to confess that this meal ; 
 cost me a halfpenny more than the sum charged for 
 the provisions, because I preferred the accommoda- 
 tions of a room where I could sit quietly, and without 
 the annoyance of tobacco-fumes. For this privilege 
 I willingly incurred the additional expense, and thus 
 spent many an hour in tolerable comfort, which other- 
 wise must have been spent either in the cold and 
 cheerless streets, or among the noisy and uncouth 
 frequenters of a dirty tap-room. I felt a considerable 
 degree of interest in regard to the course of public 
 affairs, and therefore was the more anxious to see a 
 newspaper every day. 1 also hoped that some one 
 of the numerous advertisements might be made avail-
 
 MEMOIKS OP A WOllKIXG MAX. 145 
 
 able in the way of getting employment other than 
 that of tailoring. In this hope I was disappointed ; 
 yet the time I thus spent was not quite thrown away, 
 as I hereby contracted a habit of carefully reading 
 advertisements, which I have found to be useful. So 
 fixed and powerful is this habit, that I never omit 
 looking over the advertising columns of every news- 
 paper that comes fairly within my reach, and I often 
 do this at the expense of leaving unrea.d all its other 
 contents. It may be a merely fanciful notion on my 
 part, but I nevertheless seem to learn more of 
 human nature and of the tangled web of human 
 affairs from these sources than I am able to learn 
 from the most laboured statements of either editors 
 or paid correspondents. While these, in order to 
 bring grist to the mill, are forced to comply with 
 party views and to suppress their own ; or are induced 
 to mystify plain questions, so that they may seem to 
 be profoundly learned in political knowledge ; the 
 advertising parties write for themselves — throw aside 
 the veil of mystery— ask in good plain English for 
 the reader's cash, and generally give a fair view of 
 what is going on in the regions of their inner man. 
 There are, indeed, some cases in which the adver- 
 tisers employ a few cabalistical phrases in their an- 
 nouncements ; but these may be soon interpreted. 
 When this is done, the reader will not fail to discover 
 what may, perhaps, help to guard him from becoming 
 a victim to the cupidity, trickery, or base selfishness 
 which may often be partially concealed under cover 
 of veiy plausible statements. But I am neglecting 
 my bill of fare, in like manner as I then sometimes 
 
 G
 
 146 MEMOIRS OF A VvORKIXG MAX. 
 
 neglected to get ray dinner — that is to say, by having 
 ray thoughts fully occupied about other matters. I 
 have but a very slender account to give of my noonday 
 meal, inasmuch as I frequently dined in the style of 
 " Duke Humphrey/' and in a similar place. When 
 I did have a dinner, it was made out of a penny loaf 
 unaccompanied by the addition of anything besides. 
 Of the meal usually called " tea," I say nothing, and 
 for a good reason, namely, that I really have nothing 
 to say, inasmuch as it had no place among my meals. 
 In consideration of my abstinence during the day, I 
 venture to hope for the reader's verdict in respect of 
 my rather plentiful supper. At this meal I allowed 
 myself a sufficient quantity of food ; but as to its qua- 
 lity I cannot say much in its favour. It consisted of 
 bread and cheese, porter, and onions — food which I 
 have always much relished, but which was, even 
 then, far too crude and heavy for my feeble digestive 
 powers. It was, however, very palatable, and con- 
 siderably the more so because of my having had the 
 appetite a good deal sharpened by much previous 
 abstinence, and by exposure to a cold atmosphere. 
 After all, however, it was not the food merely that 
 made this meal so acceptable. I was fully as much 
 gratified with the opportunity it gave me of reposing 
 myself in an easy chair by the side of a good fire, and 
 also of having a little pleasant chat with my host and 
 hostess, together with my fellow-lodger ; and I yet 
 further valued this hour, because of its affording me 
 a better convenience for reading than I could com- 
 mand during the day. Besides all which, it was the 
 evening -time, and I then, as I ever have done, pre-
 
 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 147 
 
 ferred this far before every other. I am not insen- 
 sible to the cheerful influence of the morning — 
 whether it be that of the natural da}^ or year, or of 
 the day of human life ; but the morning is the season 
 of .hopes that may, perhaps, be disappointed — of pur- 
 poses that may be broken off — of wishes that may 
 never be gratified — and of innumerable pleasing but 
 nameless emotions, which, in all probability, will 
 meet with no kindred response.* All these hazards 
 and uncertainties make the morning to me a time 
 rather of pensive thought than of gladsome feeling, 
 whereas the evening speaks of the past ; and although 
 in that past there may have been much upon which 
 we desire not to look again, yet there is the consola- 
 tion of knowing that 
 
 " The past temptations 
 No more shall vex us " — 
 
 * I here give a verse or two of a poem which — considering 
 what is stated in the text — the reader will not wonder that I 
 should have retained in the memory, although nearly forty 
 years have gone over me since I read it : — 
 
 " Youth's rosy morn, serenely glowing, 
 
 Impearls the buoyant spray ; 
 The sparkling tides of pleasure flowing, 
 Where fancied tufts of tlow'rets blowing, 
 
 Their mossy banks inlay. 
 Life throbs alert, ah ! little knowing 
 
 How sets its day. 
 
 Dark skies, with tempests intersected, 
 
 Man's fiercer noon invest ; 
 Plans cross'd— hopes thwarted — love neglected — 
 Wounds from the objects least suspected — 
 
 Unnerve his iron breast. 
 The cheat, alas ! too late detected, 
 
 Too long caress'd."'
 
 148 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAX. 
 
 that the perils and toils, the cares and griefs, of the 
 day are gone, and gone for ever. 
 
 Thus, at the hour of evening, I have always been 
 ready to exclaim with him of whom Thomson says 
 that 
 
 "" '* He never vittcr"J word, save — when first shone 
 
 The glittering star of eve — ' Thank Heaven ! the day is 
 done.' " 
 
 Or with him who, speaking in his own person and 
 from the impulse of deep and unaffected emotion, 
 thus addresses this delightful visitant ": — 
 
 " Come, evenhig, once again, season of peace ; 
 Return, sweet evening, and continue long! 
 
 I slight thee not, but make thee welcome still.'' 
 
 So welcome, indeed, was she, that I seldom contem- 
 plated her departure without somewhat of a painful 
 feeling; and when she was forced to go, I often en- 
 deavoured to make up her loss by giving such enter- 
 tainment as I could to Night, her twin-sister, and 
 who is said to be 
 
 " Fair Virtue's immemorial friend. ' 
 
 I have had soma experience of the salutary and be- 
 nignant influence of this " sable goddess," and must 
 not omit to record my grateful remembrances of the 
 many benefits and pleasures I have derived from her 
 society. Even while I write I go back to these hal- 
 lowed interviews, and again say, as I have often said 
 in the spirited language of him who was especially her 
 poet and eulogist, 
 
 *' Hail, precious moments ! — stolen from the black waste 
 Of murder'd time; auspicious midnight, hail ! ''
 
 JIEJdOIRS OF A WORKING MAX. 149 
 
 But for these moments — which in my case were in- 
 deed snatched from the wrecks of time — I should 
 never have enjoyed the privilege of holding converse 
 with many among the illustrious dead, who still live 
 in their imperishable works. It may have been that 
 my reading at these unseasonable hours had an un- 
 propitious effect upon my bodily health ; of this, 
 however, I am not sure, and if I were so, I should be 
 very unlikely to regret the issue, for I still think that 
 a portion of physical vigour given for that which con- 
 duces to the amelioration of the mental state, is 
 neither an ill-judged nor a profitless exchange. I 
 ]iow turn from these speculations to a matter of fact, 
 which, although very trifling in itself, gave me much 
 vexation and some anxiety. It so happened that I 
 made a serious inroad upon my poorly-stocked purse 
 by a foolish transaction, of which I soon repented, 
 but, as is often the case in concerns of greater mo- 
 ment, without avail, except that I learned to be 
 thenceforward more cautious in buying what I did 
 not want. 1 fancied that a pair of boots would im- 
 prove my personal appearance, which, to speak the 
 truth, was really in want of some amendment, inas- 
 much as both my dress and gait were considerably 
 out of the fashion. Urged on by this fancy, I ven- 
 tured to bespeak a new pair of what were called 
 Hessian boots, nothing doubting that my outward 
 man would be greatly embellished by having the legs 
 encased in a pair of these fashionable habiliments. 
 The result proved tliat I had " reckoned without my 
 host," for it turned out that the worthy son of Crispin 
 to whom I gave the order was incompetent to the
 
 150 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 
 
 task I had set him. When the boots made their ap- 
 pearance, I discovered that I had made a sad mistake 
 as to their maker's knowledge of the fashion, and at 
 once perceived that, if I wore them, they would give 
 me a yet more uncouth appearance than that which I 
 so much wished to Jay aside. As to the materials and 
 workmanship 1 believe there was no fault to be 
 found ; but in regard to shape, they were so odd and 
 out-of-the-way, that I verily think they could not 
 have been easily matched, even among the enormous 
 boot-stores of the Great Metropolis. They Avere, in 
 short, well worthy of a niche in some museum of out- 
 landish costumes. Thus I was doubly mortified, for I 
 not only found myself mmus in the good round sum of 
 thirty-six shillings, but also was saddled with an article* 
 in exchange for which I felt that I had neither taste 
 nor use. Yet, as there was no remedy, I put the best 
 face I could upon the matter, wore the unfortunate 
 boots, and consoled myself w^th the thought that I 
 would in future be more careful in regard both to the 
 choice of a craftsman and spending money for unne- 
 cessary articles. For some time, however, 1 was a 
 good deal troubled about this affair, as I rather 
 dreaded its consequences would be a realization of 
 that shrewd proverb in Poor Richard's Almanac, "He 
 that buys what he has no occasion for, will soon be 
 forced to sell his necessaries." Yet, after all, it did 
 not turn out so bad as I had foreboded, although it 
 made a still further reduction of my necessary ex- 
 penses an immediate duty. By dint of hard living I 
 made my cash hold out until I procured work, at 
 which time, however, it was nearly all expended.
 
 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 151 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 I FOUND employment sooner than I should have 
 done, in consequence of a death in the Royal Family, 
 It was that of the youngest daughter of the reigning 
 monarch. This event caused a sudden demand for 
 black clothes, it being the custom on these occasions 
 for a public mourning to be ordered, which continued 
 altogether for several months. At this time there 
 was a great stir for two or three weeks among the 
 tailors, which of course was soon followed by a gene- 
 ral stagnation of the tailoring trade,* to the great 
 injury of multitudes belonging to the craft. With a 
 view to lessen this, it had been the rule — founded, as 
 it was said, upon a law — to allow double wages to 
 the workmen for a month from the day of a royal 
 person's decease. But this humane provision was 
 made the occasion of much contention and ill-will. 
 First, there were disputes between the master-tailors 
 and many of their customers on account of the in- 
 creased charges for clothes ; and, consequently, there 
 
 * The cause of this will be readily seen, if it be remem- 
 bered that, for so long as the mourning continued, there was 
 but very little demand for any hut black clothes. The mis- 
 chief was nicreased by the facility with which these can be 
 scoured and otherwise improved, so as to make them look well 
 for a much longer time than is possible in regard to clothes of 
 any other colour. This is especially the case in the winter 
 season — the time in which tliis incident occurred.
 
 152 MEMOIRS OF A TVORKIXG MAN. 
 
 \vas a good deal of bickering about \yaQ;es between 
 these masters and their journeymen. After many 
 strugs^les the masters so far succeeded as to get rid 
 of the double wages, except for black clothes only. 
 At the next public mourning they further objected to 
 the extra payment even for black clothes, except they 
 were ordered solely on that account. By this time, 
 therefore, the privilege of having double wages on 
 these emergencies was greatly reduced in value. 
 The master who nov>^ gave me work expressly stipu- 
 lated that I should receive only single wages for 
 whatever garments I might make. To this I was 
 forced to consent, or incur the danger of being for a 
 still longer time out of employment. Thus situated, 
 I v.ent to work with a determination to make the 
 '• best of a hard bargain," and succeeded tolerably 
 well in ray efforts. 
 
 I continued to work for this master until trade be- 
 came so dull that he was obliged to discharge several 
 of his workmen, among whom I was included. I was 
 glad to find that I had given him satisfaction, for he 
 promised to employ me again so soon as his business 
 became more brisk. It was, however, more than two 
 months before he had an opportunity of redeeming 
 this pledge ; during v.hich time, notwithstanding that 
 I had saved a little money while at work, I should cer- 
 tainh^ have suffered considerable inconvenience but 
 for the good offices of a fellow-workman. Tiiis 
 friendly man was able to procure work from a whole- 
 sale clothing-house in the City. He did this when- 
 ever his usual supply failed him ; and on this occasion 
 he took out as much as sufficed to keep both of us
 
 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 153 
 
 busily employed. Thus, during four or five weeks of 
 the dreary midwinter I was busy at work, and, more- 
 over, as comfortable as I could reasonably wish to be. 
 I worked in the same room with my friend, and there- 
 fore had the advantage of being both warmer and at 
 less cost than if I had worked alone. He charged me 
 nothing for either shopboard-room, fire, or candles, 
 and, moreover, allowed me several Iktle accommo- 
 dations which added considerably to ray comfort 
 while at work. I have long ago foi gotten his name; 
 but I hope never to forget his disinterested kindness. 
 The work I was employed about consisted chiefly of 
 garments for the East India Company's naval and 
 railitaiy officers. They were wanted in time to be 
 forwarded to India by one of the ships belonging to 
 the Company's March fleet. When they were all 
 made my friend's power to help me was at an end, as 
 he had no more work than w^as needful for his own 
 purposes, and thus I was again left without employ- 
 ment. This, however, now gave me but little con- 
 cern, as the spring-time was approaching, and I felt 
 assured would bring with it a revival of business. 
 What anxiety I did feel was speedily relieved by my 
 being sent for by my former master. Here I was again 
 provided for, and moreover was as comfortably situ- 
 ated as I could wish, being on good terms with both 
 my master and my fellow-workmen ; while my eain- 
 ings were good enough to allow of my again saving a 
 little money. I here saw another example, in addi- 
 tion to several that I had previously witnessed, of the 
 evil effects produced upon apprentices by their being 
 allov/ed to eat and drink without restraint. The con- 
 
 G 3
 
 154 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 
 
 sequence of this full feeding was in each case such an 
 indolent and careless habit as effectually prevented the 
 lad from learning to be either a quick or a clever work- 
 man. In this case the youth was of good moral cha- 
 racter, and also of very agreeable manners, but he 
 was too well fed to allow of his feeling able to work 
 properly. When, therefore, his apprenticeship had 
 expired, he was incompetent to be a journeyman, and 
 soon descended to the very humble station of a 
 tailor's trotter.* 
 
 There is a proverb current among our craft, which 
 says that " A half-starved tailor works the best ;" and 
 if this be understood as simply meaning that a tem- 
 perate man is the best fitted for effective labour, I 
 fully subscribe to its truth. I hesitate not to say, 
 that while I have seen many instances of the bad 
 consequences of full feeding among my fellow-work- 
 men, I have never seen one of an opposite character. 
 At the hazard of incurring the warm displeasure of 
 some who may read this, I must now write that which 
 J have often said with the living voice. 
 
 It may seem harsh, but it is not the less true, that 
 tailors, in general, are both improvident and intem- 
 perate men. They have, I know, many temptations 
 to both these faults ; but this is no valid excuse. In 
 proportion to the force of the temptations ought to 
 
 * A tailor's hotter is one whose business it is to wait on the 
 master and his workmen in various ways — such as to clean out 
 the cutting-room and the workshop, to see that the men are 
 duly provided with hot irons (for pressing their work), to get 
 what they may want out of the cutting-room, to brush and 
 carry liome clothes, &c. In short, he is a '•' servant of all 
 work."
 
 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAX. 155 
 
 be their efforts to resist them. By doing this, they 
 would get rid both of their ill-name, and also of 
 much personal suffering. I always held these views, 
 as many among them can testify, and I have some- 
 times been glad to see that my efforts to enforce 
 them have not been without some good effect. One 
 of the men with whom I was now working was a 
 striking example of their truth and value. He was, 
 indeed, a pattern of industry, prudence, and tempe- 
 rance. May I give a brief sketch of this worthy man ? 
 His name betokened his relationship to the " Emerald 
 Isle," being none other than " Patrick Crawley." 
 By dint of persevering attention to the virtues just 
 named, Patrick, helped by his good wife, had con- 
 trived to become the tenant of a good house and the 
 master of a flourishing business in the earthenware 
 line, in the fashionable town of Brighton. When the 
 tailoring trade was brisk in London, he left his house 
 and business under the care of his wife, while he 
 went thither to look after work. As at these times 
 there was an increased demand for workmen, he did 
 not often long want a master- When he had found 
 one, he was not likely to be soon discharged, because 
 his working abilities, as also his general appearance 
 and deportment, were such as made him a valuable 
 workman. We soon became good friends, as well as 
 friendly shop-mates. It may not be anniss to remark 
 that he was a member of the Roman Catholic Church, 
 while I was a Protestant, and moreover a dissenter 
 from the National Church establishment ; but this dif- 
 ference of religious profession made no difficulty in 
 the way of our maintaining mutual good-will. All
 
 156 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 
 
 that we found needful was a little mutual forbear- 
 ance, and as we agreed to exercise this towards each 
 other's religious scruples, we went on very smoothly ; 
 nor do I believe that any dispute would ever have 
 arisen between us on these grounds. I will just add 
 here that I have never found any difficulty whatever 
 in regard to living at peace with members of the Roman 
 Catholic Church (of whom there were ve7'y mamj 
 among ray numerous shop-mates during twenty years). 
 Nor have I ever concealed or given up any part of 
 my religious opinions in order to conciliate these 
 men; on the contrary, T have always avow-ed my 
 attachment to the Protestant faith. Ail that I ever 
 found needful in order to preserve a friendly feeling, 
 has been a proper regard to their feelings, both as men 
 and as the zealous members of a church which, de- 
 spite of its errors or defects, I saw to be the instru- 
 ment of much good, both private and public. I am 
 bound to say that I have ever found the consistent 
 members of the Romish Church to be far better men, 
 in every respect, than were the avowed sceptics and 
 practical atheists, which so much abounded among 
 the nomiyial Protestants of the shop-board. 
 
 "When the spring-trade had fully set in, my Hi- 
 bernian friend thought it would be more advantageous 
 to connect himself with a house-of-call. In this 
 opinion I agreed with him, and consequently we lost 
 no time in carrying our views into effect. By this 
 arrangement, however, we ceased to be fellow-work- 
 men, for we were called to work by different masters, 
 so that our future intercourse was merely occasional. 
 In the course of a few months it ceased altogether,
 
 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 157 
 
 by reason of our leaving London, and taking np~our 
 residence in towns far removed from each other. 
 
 About this time I went upon what I am forced to 
 call " a foolish errand," because I had repeatedly 
 seen, although on a smaller scale, what I went to 
 gaze at. This was nothing less than a grand military 
 review, which was about to be held on Wimbledon 
 Common. The weather was hot ; the road was dusty, 
 and thronged with carriages of all sorts, as well as by 
 an almost overwhelming number of people. Yet, for 
 myself, I certainly had no business to be among 
 them. The review was a very magnificent aiFair; 
 quite as splendid, perhaps, as a show of that kind 
 could well be. The troops were numerous, well 
 clothed, and completely equipped. They were re- 
 viewed by the Prince of Wales, accompanied by his 
 brothers the Dukes of York and Cumberland, together 
 with the nominal King of France (Louis XVIIL) and 
 several other male branches of the French royal 
 family, which at that time was enjoying a comfort- 
 able asylum in England, while the great Napoleon 
 was riding rough-shod over not only France, but also 
 over nearly every other kingdom of Europe. The 
 spectators were truly multitudinous, and when they 
 litled up their united voices in one general acclama- 
 tion, might have reminded one of that yet more 
 numerous assemblage which 
 
 " Up sent 
 A shout that tore hell's concave ;"' 
 
 or rather, of that whose combined voices are repre- 
 sented as resembling the noise of " mighty thunder- 
 ing," or of " many waters."
 
 158 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAX. 
 
 On my return homewards I became very ill, through 
 fatigue and involuntary fasting ; I say involuntary, 
 because I really could not procure suitable refresh- 
 ments either on or near the ground, as the supply of 
 eatables and drinkables was not equal to the demand. 
 I at length reached an ale-house, where I found both 
 rest and provisions, and thus in a short time was 
 enabled to resume my walk. 
 
 Indue time I reached home, when, as was my usual 
 custom, I sat in judgment upon the proceedings of 
 the day. As I reviewed these with some degree of 
 coolness and impartiality, I found that I had been 
 guilty of indiscretion ; for which I regarded my 
 fatigue and loss of cash as no more than a just cor- 
 rection. I could not balance the account — as be- 
 tween debtor and creditor — without perceiving that I 
 had been concerned in a profitless transaction ; while 
 if I looked at it solely in the light of a necessary 
 charge for amusement, I felt that I had paid a great 
 deal " too much for my whistle." 
 
 The upshot of the whole matter was, that I resolved 
 to be more cautious in future as regarded running 
 after either military or any other merely show}' ex- 
 hibitions—a resolution which I have tolerably well 
 kept from that time until now. 
 
 Ere I leave this subject, I wish to observe that I 
 do not wholly decry military spectacles, nor do I 
 include others in the censure which I have just passed 
 upon myself: — 
 
 '^ Different minds 
 Incline to different objects ;" 
 
 and even the same mind at different seasons or stages
 
 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 159 
 
 of life is not affected in the same way by the same 
 objects or incidents. Thus, as all have their peculiar 
 tastes, and as there is said to be no disputing, with 
 certainty, about these, it may be that there is some 
 real beauty or grandeur in scenes of " martial pomp 
 and array," although I may not now be able to dis- 
 cover wherein it lies ; otherwise it is hard to account 
 for the intense interest they create in so many minds, 
 which, nevertheless, are neither puerile nor untaught ; 
 an interest, moreover, which is as enduring as it is 
 powerful. 
 
 It was also about this time that I acted unwisely in 
 another instance. Herein I exposed both myself and 
 others to considerable danger. It was through read- 
 ing in bed by candlelight without taking due care to 
 guard against accident by fire. Being very weary, 
 after a long day's work, and yet anxious to read a 
 little before I slept, I endeavoured to do this in a 
 way that might answer the double purpose of getting 
 some physical rest and amusing myself: I therefore 
 placed the candle upon my pillow, and assumed a 
 reclined posture, forgetting that, by doing this, I was 
 rather inviting sleep than preparing myself for intel- 
 lectual exertion. Ere long the fatigued body asserted 
 its claim to entire repose, and I fell into a sleep from 
 which I did not awake until my candle was much 
 wasted. It was still burning, and moreover was close 
 to my head; while the scattered state of my books 
 showed that I had moved enough while asleep to have 
 incurred considerable danger. 
 
 But for the goodness of Him who " neither slum- 
 bers nor sleeps," the issue of this seemingly trifling
 
 •160 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAX. 
 
 incident would, probably, have been calamitous to 
 many, and fatal to more than one ; as the house in 
 which I lodged, together with those adjoining it, was 
 old, dry, and crowded with inhabitants. 
 
 Sometimes I took a walk in the evening, and then 
 I occasionally found my way into a bookseller's shop, 
 the keeper of v.hich sold books by auction nearly 
 every evening. The books offered for sale were 
 chiefly of but little value. There was sometimes a 
 useful book, but as this commonly found a goodly 
 number of bidders, and therefore was sold at a rather 
 high price, I was seldom a purchaser. Thus, in 
 general, I was only a spectator of what I found to be 
 a not unamusing scene. Among other matters, I 
 noticed that it often happened, when the auctioneer 
 came to a saleable lot, his assistant could not find it, 
 upon which the next lot was called for without delay. 
 The frequency of this accident made me suspect that 
 it was not altogether what it seemed to be. 
 
 At one of these sales I bought a copy of ' Bloom- 
 field's Poems,' but not so cheaply as to encourage 
 me to continue my biddings. I read Bloomneld with 
 much interest, as I also did a copy of ^Montgomery's 
 •' Wanderer in Switzerland, and other Poems.' 
 •Being at the time in poor health of body, at which 
 times my imaginative faculty has always been mor- 
 bidly active, 1 was unwise to read poetry of this 
 class, which, under the circumstances, was more 
 likely to excite uneasy feelings than to invigorate the 
 mind. And thus it fell out ; for while I read of rural 
 scenes, and also of the comparative quietude and the 
 superior happiness of a country life, I grew weary
 
 MEMOir.S OF A yvORKI?;G MAX. 161 
 
 and heart-sick of the noisy and restless town, although 
 
 that town was no less than the " resort and mart Oi 
 
 all the eaiih ;" and forthwith so earnestly wished once 
 
 more 
 
 " To gaze at Nature in her green array," 
 
 as led me to resolve upon again changing the place 
 of my abode. To one in my circumstances this was no 
 difficult matter. I therefore was soon ready to bid, 
 what I intended to be a final, adieu to London, and 
 ere long was snugly quartered in my fathers cottage. 
 
 My first care was to seek employment, which I 
 soon found, because, in addition to trade being brisk, 
 I v.'as considered to be a competent workman, inas- 
 much as I had been working in London, which was 
 1 bought to be the only efficient school for juvenile 
 tailors. 
 
 My new master was, in many respects, a remarkable 
 ■ man. Without anything more than a brief, and neces- 
 sarily imperfect, training, he was metamorphosed from, 
 what he previously was, into a working tailor, and 
 from this he quickly graduated to the rank of a 
 master. Several circumstances just then combining 
 to make a fair opening for another master tradesman 
 in that line, he adroitly and seasonably availed him- 
 self of them, and following up the advantages of his 
 position, soon found himself to be the chief tailor in 
 the town and its vicinity. For many years he carried 
 on a very extensive tailoring business — working very 
 generally, and with much repute, for the numerous 
 military officers successively quartered in the district,, 
 which comprised several garrisons. He also con- 
 tracted largely for clothing entire regiments; besides
 
 162 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 
 
 which, he was both a wool-merchant and a wholesale 
 woollen-draper. Having, as I have said, obtained 
 what was necessary to my physical support, I en- 
 deavoured to make provision for wants of an intellec- 
 tual kind ; I naturally turned to my old and chosen 
 resource, that of books. It had, perhaps, been better 
 for my bodily health, if I had been able to get more 
 out-of-door exercise than can fairly be obtained by 
 one who is called to earn his daily bread by his daily 
 labour at a sedentary business. Without being 
 positively ill, I was so much disordered in body as, 
 for the time, to feel incompetent to the proper dis- 
 charge of my necessary duties ; I felt languid, and 
 wished for some retreat where I might enjoy unbroken 
 rest and quietness. Such a lot as this was, of course, 
 wholly unattainable by such a one as myself, and I 
 now think it was well that it was so ; for, could 1 have 
 then compassed it, I think it would have proved but 
 a vain refuge, and that neither the mind nor the body 
 would have received much benefit from its supposed 
 advantages. I have, since then, had some conside- 
 rable experience in regard both to mental inquietude 
 and bodily disorder ; and the result has been a sober 
 conviction that daily and imperative duties, such as 
 call for the vigorous exercise of the mental powers, 
 are among the best alleviations of either trouble or 
 disease. But for the ceaseless pressure of manifold 
 and anxious cares on the behalf of others, I had not 
 borne the burden of personal disorder and infirmity 
 nearly so well as I have done ; the mind would have 
 been chained down either to a continual sympathy 
 with the sufferings of the disordered body, or to
 
 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 163 
 
 moody musings upon its own ailments. Yet, al- 
 though I deprecate complete retirement in a case of 
 this sort, 1 do not think that a tailor's workshop is a 
 place well adapted to the state of an invalid : its 
 atmosphere is ill suited to preserve, much less to re- 
 store, the vigour of the bodily frame ; while its 
 society is equally inimical to the health of both the 
 mind and the heart. Such, however, was the scene, 
 and such were the associates, with which I was com- 
 pelled to be daily and hourly familiar ; I need not 
 say that I found both the one and the other to be not 
 a little distasteful. 
 
 Among nearly forty workfellows there was but one 
 with whom I could hold any intercourse beyond that 
 of mere civility, or the neighbourly regard which one 
 man owes to another on the ground of their common 
 nature. For this one, however, 1 speedily felt a more 
 than ordinary esteem ; an esteem which, ere long, 
 ripened into a hearty friendship, which, in defiance 
 of all adverse influences or circumstances, still 
 continues. 
 
 The tenure by which journeymen tailors hold their 
 employment is more than ordinarily slight. No 
 workman of this craft can be sure of remaining in 
 his present master's service after he has finished the 
 garment he has in hand ; consequently there are 
 many and frequent changes of workfellows to him 
 who happens to retain his station, as I did, for several 
 years. During these years I saw many such changes, 
 and became thereby acquainted with many different 
 men, some of whom deserve a passing notice : here, 
 however, I must so far restrain myself, as to bring
 
 164 MEMOIRS OF A "WORKING MAX. 
 
 only one before the reader. He was a good-looldng 
 man, whose dress and manners bespoke him to be 
 superior to the generality of working tailors. From 
 several circumstances 1 judged him to be a broken 
 master, who had found it needful to retire from 
 London to the comparative seclusion of a country- 
 town. I soon discovered that he was a very superior 
 workman ; and also, that he possessed a large amount 
 of business knowledge, not only in his own trade, but 
 also in others. He was moreover well informed 
 upon many other subjects besides those of mere 
 business ; and, being both a ready and an intelligible 
 speaker, was able to communicate what he knew in a 
 very clear and satisfactory way. I am indebted to 
 him for some very judicious and sober advice — by 
 following which I have often had the pleasure of 
 seeing that the comfort of those around me has been 
 promoted. He was also a thoroughly good-tempered 
 man, and willing to do a good turn for any of his 
 workfellows. ' I wish he had been all of a piece, but, 
 unhappily for himself, he was not, as he could de- 
 scend quite as low as any around him, both in lan- 
 guage and demeanour : this grieved and also per- 
 plexed me ; lor 1 could not comprehend how it was 
 that a man who must have felt his mental superiority 
 over those around him, could voluntarily descend to 
 their disreputable language and habits. 
 
 In resuming my personal story I must record 
 another of my ill-advised actions. At the General 
 Parliamentary election in 1812, the representation 
 of my native town was sought by three candidates, 
 the number to be returned being but two. In the
 
 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 165 
 
 contest that followed 1 was employed as an overseer 
 at one of the public-houses where the non-resident 
 voters were lodged and fed during their stay in the 
 town. My duties were to see that these persons 
 were duly provided for ; and, further, to prevent the 
 resident free-burgesses from having any entertain- 
 ment at the candidate's expense, lest he should, it 
 elected, be in danger of losing his seat by the opera- 
 tion of the Act of Parliament commonly called ' The 
 Treating Act.' Had I reflected a moment I should 
 have seen that I was wholly unfit for an ofnce like 
 this ; and, therefore, ought not to accept it. I might 
 have done this with a good grace, because I had 
 applied for employment of a very different kind, viz. 
 that of Clerk upon the Hustings, having heard much 
 talk about the liberal wages usually paid to the Poll- 
 clerks; but these places were all filled before I could 
 get a hearing ; so 1 was induced to become the super- 
 intendent of an unreasonable, capricious throng of 
 men, women, and children, which required a much 
 braver spirit and stronger arm than mine to keep it 
 in any decent order. 
 
 After the election was over I had to wait a con- 
 siderable time for my wages, which, when paid, 
 turned out to be a very paltry sum— not so much, 
 indeed, as I could have earned at my proper occu- 
 pation. When I came to review my conduct in this 
 affair, I saw that I had acted both foolishly and cul- 
 pably. I had voluntarily gone into a scene of dis- 
 order and intemperance ; where people claiming to 
 be thought civilized and reputable allowed them- 
 selves to revel in wasteful and demoralizing gratifica-
 
 166 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAX. 
 
 tions, such as would have reflected dishonour upon a 
 horde of savages. I dare say the reader will believe 
 that I have never accepted a similar office. At the 
 request of some friends I soon after this time became 
 a Sunday-teacher in a school, which, during the other 
 days of the week, was conducted upon the plan of 
 the once celebrated Joseph Lancaster. Here my 
 object could not be pecuniary gain, for the work was 
 gratuitously done, and I was, moreover, put to a 
 small weekly expense in the way of subscribing to a 
 fund, which the Associated Teachers had established 
 for the purpose of giving the sick or otherwise needy 
 children some substantial relief, in addition to their 
 religious instructions. 
 
 I must now advert to my health, which at this 
 time gave tokens of being much impaired : the symp- 
 toms were such as usually accompany a much dis- 
 ordered state of the digestive powers. My diet, 
 occupation, and amusements were alike unfavourable 
 to my restoration ; while the medicines I took for 
 the purpose of strengthening the stomach increased 
 the constipation of the intestinal organs, and thus did 
 quite as much harm in that direction as they did good 
 in the other. The evil, which I judge to have been 
 constitutional, was, I think, much aggravated by 
 frequently suffering the stomach to go too long with- 
 out nourishment, especially in the early part of the 
 day. My work required my attention at, or before, 
 5 o'clock in the morning ; and, as I dared not drink 
 water, much less beer, or any other heavy or exciting 
 liquor at that early hour, and yet had no appetite for 
 sohd food, unless I had somethmg to drink with it
 
 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAX. 167 
 
 I had no alternative but to brave the morning air — 
 often raw and cold — with an empty stomach, and then 
 work until 8 or 9 o'clock before I took my breakfast. 
 It commonly occurred that, by this time, my stomach 
 was unable to digest what it otherwise so much 
 needed ; as a natural consequence, it frequently re- 
 fused to retain the food which I then took, except at 
 the expense of more pain than was consistent with 
 my continuing at work ; I was therefore obliged to 
 relieve it, and then I had to work for nearly five hours 
 longer before I^took any further nourishment. I was 
 ignorant of the probable issue of my ailments, or, 
 perhaps, I should have been less tranquil than I 
 usually was; yet, as mental anxiety would but have 
 aggravated the mischief, it was, I think, well for me 
 that I could not foresee the severe and incurable 
 disorder that was to come upon me in future years. 
 Perhaps a part of my subsequent suffering might 
 have been avoided had I been better acquainted with 
 what was suitable, or otherwise, in the way of diet 
 and warmth. I now see that I erred very much in 
 both of these particulars, and, for the sake of a reader 
 who may either be a fellow-sufferer, or likely to 
 become so, I will just state wherein I was wrong. In 
 regard to diet, I did wrong in continuing to take solid 
 and heavy food after I found that it seldom failed to 
 produce uneasy sensations in the stomach, head, &c. 
 I have since learned by experiment that I further 
 erred in using milk and sugar with the tea or coffee 
 that I drank ; and further, that I ought to have taken 
 greater care to relieve the feet from that death-like 
 coldness to which they have always been subject, even
 
 168 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAX. 
 
 in the hottest weather. I have good reason to be- 
 lieve that 1 should have received much relief from a 
 cup of plain and strong coffee, with a piece of brea.d 
 or biscuit as soon as possible after I arose in the 
 morning — at any rate before I went oat into the cold 
 air. I did not, however, until many years afterwards, 
 learn the efficacy of coffee prepared in this way, or I 
 should not have gone without it. My kind-hearted 
 and ever-watchful mother would have taken care to 
 provide either this or any other refreshment or nutri- 
 ment that was within our reach. She knew of my 
 disordered state, but was, of course, ignorant of its 
 probable consequences, and also of the necessity 
 there was that I should take such diet on!}* as might 
 be easily digested. All her kind efforts, therefore, 
 were directed towards providing for me such as she 
 judged to be both palatable and nutritious. She had 
 her own way entirely, in all that pertained to my 
 food, lodging, and other personal matters; for I never 
 gave her any directions, having, as I judged, better 
 employment than that of superintending the affairs 
 of a thoughtful housewife. By the way, I will just 
 state that I have followed the same rule ever since I 
 have been a married man. I have always thought it 
 to be far more within my proper sphere of action to 
 aim at providing what might buy food, or other 
 necessaries, than to be giving orders about either 
 dinners or any other meals. As a natural conse- 
 quence, I have ever found, from both mother and 
 wife, an unwearied attention to my personal comfort. 
 I have never found fault, or even seemed to be dis- 
 satisfied, with anything which I had reason to believe
 
 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 169 
 
 was done with a view to my comfort ; and thus my 
 faithful and affectionate helpers have never been dis- 
 couraged in their endeavours to promote my well- 
 being. In all this I not only followed the bent of 
 my own temper, but also acted upon the advice of 
 the shrewd, observant shopmate of whom I have al- 
 ready given a brief account. 
 
 My narrative has now come down to the \vinter of 
 1812-13, at the end of which I was called upon to 
 act as a day's-man between the master-tailors of the 
 town and my fellow-workmen in a negotiation rela- 
 tive to an advance of wages. This advance was ren- 
 dered needful by the increasingly high prices of all 
 the necessaries of life, together with the extra work 
 required by the changes of fashion in making up 
 clothes since the current rate of wages was fixed. I 
 here saw a striking instance of the good effects re- 
 sulting from acting respectfully towards the masters 
 in the transaction of business of this kind. Our de- 
 mands were moderate, and were made in the shape 
 of a request, giving our reasons for making them. 
 They were made in writing, a copy being left with 
 each master for his private consideration, and a time 
 being named when his answer would be looked for. 
 They saw by the simultaneousness of their respective 
 workmen's movements that they were acting in con- 
 cert, although in a respectful manner. They there- 
 fore soon proposed a conference, at which, after some 
 little hesitation on the masters' side, and a good deal of 
 trouble to keep the wrong-headed among the work- 
 men from behaving offensively, the advance of wages 
 was agreed upon, and was thenceforth freely paid.
 
 170 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAX. 
 
 While, however, these more laraiHarmatters claimed 
 the chief part of my attention, I could not let the ex- 
 traordinary events which were then almost daily oc- 
 curring in the great political world pass without notice. 
 Several of my shopmates were quite as much struck 
 as myself with these unlooked-for events, and, this 
 l)eing so, we had a good many conferences respecting 
 ihem, in lieu of the balderdash, the ribaldry, or the 
 worse-than-childish squabbling which usually formed 
 the staple of the shop-board conversation. 
 
 These men, with several others whose curiosity be- 
 gan to be awakened by the tenor of our political 
 gossip, united with myself in subscribing for a tceekhj 
 newspaper. We would gladly have taken a dailij 
 journal, but our pockets would not allow of so costly 
 iin indulgence. The paper we took was called 'The 
 News.' Its arrival was looked for with very consi- 
 derable interest, so anxious were we to see some bul- 
 letin of the Great Napoleon respecting his military 
 operations, with the other articles of foreign news, 
 and the commentaries of the newspaper editor. The 
 perusal of the paper, with the conversation ensuing 
 thereon, made the day of its coming a " white day" 
 in our estimation. 
 
 Occasionally a debate would ensue between the 
 sturdy John Bullites and those who were dazzled by 
 the exploits of the French emperor. This debate 
 vvould sometimes wax rather warm ; it then naturally 
 fell into a personal squabble, and when this was over 
 it ended, as controversies generally do, by each of 
 the disputants being the more strongly confirmed in 
 liis previous notions. Yet these little tongue-battles.
 
 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. l7l 
 
 abating the foolish personalities, were not without 
 their use, inasmuch as they served to enliven the 
 conversation, and further to fix the attention of the 
 mere listeners more strongly upon the matters in 
 question. 
 
 Thus we jogged on pretty comfortably until the 
 early part of the year 1814, when we received an 
 accession to our numbers in the persons of about six 
 Italians, none of whom could speak more than a few 
 words of English, while, of course, we were altogether 
 ignorant of 
 
 " Modern Italy's degenerate speech.'* 
 Yet, by the help of signs, and the occasional visits of 
 one of their countrymen who acted as interpreter, 
 we made ourselves mutually intelligible. 
 
 These brethren of the needle were the picked tailors 
 among those belonging to about three thousand pri- 
 soners of war, who had been confined in the war- 
 prisons of North Britain. They had been liberated 
 on condition of engaging to serve against their old 
 master. With a view to this service they were sent 
 to the barracks of our town to be organized, clothed, 
 and accoutred. The officers' clothing was made in 
 our master's workshop. This large addition to our 
 usual press of work in spring-time made us so busy 
 that extra help became needful, and the services of 
 even bad workmen were gladly accepted. Our fo- 
 reign auxiliaries— although they might have been 
 good soldiers, and certainly were very pleasant com- 
 panions — were far enough from being good tailors : 
 indeed, they seemed to regard work as a matter of 
 small moment. Their soldier's pay was more than 
 
 k2
 
 172 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 
 
 sufficient to supply their moderate wants, and, in 
 consequence, they illustrated practically the homely 
 old saying which tells us that " A pennyAvorth of ease 
 is worth a penny." Yet they were not lazy men ; on 
 the contrary they kept themselves busy at their work, 
 but without a particle of that hurry and tumroil 
 which usually characterize English tailors when work 
 is more than ordinarily brisk. They took great plea- 
 sure in singing, and, as we made them understand 
 that we thought their singing to be very good, they 
 spared neither time nor trouble to please us. 
 
 When the whole body of their comrades were ready 
 for service we lost the company of our pleasant com- 
 panions. Of course we saw them no more, yet we 
 continued to bear them in mind with feelings of, I 
 believe, unaffected respect. They were intended for 
 service in the Netherlands, whose people were just 
 then endeavouring to get rid of their French rulers ; 
 but the contest was over before the " Italian Legion"" 
 could well get to the scene of action. They were 
 then sent to their own country, and placed at the 
 disposal of the Sardinian monarch. 
 
 In a few weeks the war was brought to a close, and 
 all united in celebrating its termination with much 
 seeming satisfaction. The working people confidently 
 looked for better times, as they still continued to 
 think that " Peace " was invariably accompanied by 
 "Plenty."' It would have been difficult to find cre- 
 dence had any one asserted that a sudden change 
 from a state of almost universal war to one of general 
 peace could not fail to be unpropitious to a large 
 garrison town.
 
 MEMOIRS OP A WORKING MAN. 173 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 It was about this time that raj"^ former fellow- 
 lodger, the medical man, returned from his long 
 campaigns in the Peninsula. He had landedat Ports- 
 mouth, and was staying there under orders to join 
 the intended expedition against New Orleans. He 
 remembered his old fellow-lodger, and invited him to 
 visit Portsmouth free of all cost. His invitation was 
 so cordial and liberal that I readily accepted it, and 
 prepared forthwith for a journey which to me seemed 
 a long one. 
 
 I reached London in the afternoon of the day, and 
 immediately took a place in the Portsmouth stage- 
 coach. When we had got a few miles on the road I 
 found that I was in an entirely new country, but, as 
 it was then evening-time, it soon became too dark to 
 allow of my seeing it distinctly. 
 
 The journey took the entire night, our progress be- 
 ing a good deal hindered by the hills w hich frequently 
 crossed the road. I had never before passed a night 
 in travelling, and therefore was the more powerfully 
 affected Vv^ith the scenes which presented themselves, 
 and which, being lighted up by the soft beams of the 
 " clear, round moon," were, in my view% alternately 
 more beautiful and more picturesque than if I had 
 surveyed them in the full light of day. I cannot well 
 describe the manner in which I was affected by the
 
 174 MEMOIRS OF A AVORKIXG MAN. 
 
 altered aspect of all nature. I seemed almost as if I 
 had just auoke, and found myself in a new and ori- 
 ginal world. 
 
 As we passed through the different towns and vil- 
 lages which lay on our road I could have fancied 
 that we were traversing the " cities of the dead ;"' yet 
 the impression was one that had nothing about it of 
 a dreary or melancholy character. Among the few 
 sounds that struck my ear, that of the horn, which the 
 guard winded as often as we neared or left the "ha- 
 bitations of men," was the most "strangely pleasing.* 
 Although one of the meanest and most unimpressive 
 sounds by daylight, I felt it to be suggestive of grave 
 thoughts, and the source of lively emotions, when 
 heard in the silence and among the shadows of the 
 night. 
 
 My travelling companions, especially after niglit- 
 fall, were not very talkative. I therefore was the 
 more at liberty to give full scope to my fancy, whose 
 varied, though perhaps rather extravagant flights 
 added not a little to the pleasure of my journey. 
 
 At length the day broke, and then the play of the 
 imaginative faculty gave place to the dictates of 
 sober reason. The evidence of the external senses 
 reminded me that I was in a world of realities, and 
 not of shadows. I began to feel drowsy, and for a 
 time lost myself in a needful slumber. When I awoke 
 from this I found that the sun had fairly risen, and, 
 moreover, that we were creeping up a very steep 
 hill, into which the road was cut deep enough to 
 form a bank of considerable height on either side. 
 Thus there was nothing to be seen but a long narrow
 
 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAX. 175 
 
 trough, in which it was vain to look for any attrac- 
 tive features, being veiy bare of everything in the 
 shape of either animal or vegetable life. Ere long, 
 however, we reached the summit of the acclivity, and 
 then I beheld a most glorious and magnificent pros- 
 pect, 
 
 " Stretching far away 
 From inland regions to the distant main,'' 
 
 and comprising a greater number of grand and beau- 
 tiful features than I had ever before seen at one view. 
 I cannot adequately express the wonder and delight 
 with which I contemplated a scene in which ocean, 
 earth, and sky seemed to vie with each other in gran- 
 deur or beauty. As a whole it was admirably adapted 
 to awaken adoration and gratitude towards the Di- 
 vine Being, and to excite a lively regard for the 
 beautiful scenes and the social advantages of one's 
 native land. I certainly felt this regard for mine, 
 and was ready to apostrophize it in the language of 
 one who was both a patriot and a poet : — 
 
 " Island of bliss ! amid the subject seas 
 That thunder round thy rocky coasts, set up, 
 At once the wonder, terror, and deli'^^ht 
 Of distant nations, whose remotest shores 
 Can soon be shaken by thy naval arm ; 
 Not to be shook thyself, but all assaults 
 Baffling, as thy hoar clitl's the loud sea-wave." 
 
 About nine o'clock in the morning I ended my 
 journey, and was received by my friend with a right 
 hearty welcome. I stayed with him a full week, 
 during which time I was much at home, and also 
 well amused. He gave me an account of his advca-
 
 176 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 
 
 tares durins: his campaigns in Portugal and Spain, 
 together with what befel him during his service in 
 the south of France. His habits of observation, toge- 
 ther with his power of well-remembering, made his 
 narratives very pleasing, especially as they were ac- 
 companied by many descriptions of interesting scenes 
 (both in nature and art), and also by numerous anec- 
 dotes illustrative of the condition, character, and 
 manners of the Portuguese, Spanish, and French 
 people. I found a good deal of amusement in look- 
 ing over the engravings in a Spanish volume called, 
 I think, ' The Visions of Don Quevedo.' It was, of 
 course, a book from which I could get but little in- 
 formation in the way of reading. The plates, how- 
 ever, told a tolerably clear story, and my host, who 
 had learned something of the Spanish language, gave 
 me such explanations as were necessary to my fully 
 comprehending the meaning of the illustrations. I 
 was a little surprised that a book which made so free 
 as this appeared to do with the character and con- 
 duct of great and authoritative people should, in a 
 country like Spain, have been permitted to see the 
 light. 
 
 I was, moreover, much interested by what I saw of 
 Portsmouth and its immediate vicinity. The fortifi- 
 cations of the town, at first sight, rather disappointed 
 me, as they seemed to be inadequate to the purposes for 
 which such works are intended ; but my friend, who 
 had seen a good many fortified places, so far explained 
 their nature and uses as to enable me to see some- 
 thing of their appropriateness and efiiciency. 
 
 A short boat-excursion gave me an opportunity of
 
 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 177 
 
 seeing a little of the Dock-yard and Arsenals. I was 
 almost astonished at the extent of these vast establish- 
 ments, together with the many and great operations 
 which were going on; but the convict-labourers, 
 chained together and working like beasts of burden, 
 were a sad spectacle ; as also were their quarters, the 
 prison-ships. 
 
 On this excursion I learned something concerning 
 the capacity for stowage in large ships. My friend 
 had business to do on board an old 50-gun ship, then 
 used as a receptacle for medical stores. Had I not 
 seen it, I could hardly have been brought to believe 
 that a vessel which, when viewed at a little distance, 
 seemed to be of only a moderate size, could have 
 contained so vast a mass of stores as it did ; and 
 which, large as it was, left ample room for the opera- 
 tions of the work-people employed, and also for the 
 accommodation of visitors. As we returned 1 was 
 enabled to form a juster notion than before of the 
 real dimensions of a iirst-rate man-of-war. The 
 ' Nelson,' a new ship of, I believe, 120 guns, had just 
 anchored in the harbour. Our boatman brought his 
 wherry close under the stern of this huge floating 
 citadel. I was fairly astonished at its colossal pro- 
 portions, and greatly pleased with the architectural 
 arrangements and ornaments of the part immediately 
 before us. Even now I cannot but wonder how so 
 ponderous a mass as this, together with all its men, 
 guns, ammunition, and stores, can be made available 
 for its required purposes. 
 
 The most pleasant and attractive parts of the town 
 are the walls, especially the sea-ward line and that 
 
 h3
 
 178 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAX. 
 
 which looks towards Gosport and the Harbour. These 
 being easy of access, broad and shaded by trees, form 
 a public walk which struck me as being much more 
 than merely agreeable, especially in the early morn- 
 ing time and in the evening. At the latter season it 
 was, while I was there, worthy of being deemed 
 beautiful, as the sea was tranquil, and illumined by 
 the beams of the moon. There were numerous ves- 
 sels under sail, together with many row-boats, from 
 some of which might be heard the strains of music. 
 '^ My friend had a good deal to do in order to be 
 prepared for his approaching voyage. While he was 
 attending to these matters, I usually remained at 
 home and read in such books as 1 found at hand. 
 Among these was a copy of Mr. Hoole's translation 
 of Tasso's 'Jerusalem Delivered,' which poem I now 
 read for the first time, and with much interest. 
 
 At the request of our landlady, I looked over a 
 volume of Sermons by the eminent Unitarian mini- 
 ster Dr. Price. I did this, however, out of mere 
 courtesy : for, although 1 have no objection to read 
 any regular treatise on theological subjects, I have 
 never been much disposed to read sermons. I ven- 
 tured to report so favourably concerning these dis- 
 courses, that the good woman was quite satisfied that 
 she would do well to read them. She was the more 
 readily brought to this conclusion, because — at which 
 the reader may well smile — she took me to be nothing 
 less than a clergyman! Hereby "there hangs a 
 tale," which I cannot persuade myself to omit telling. 
 From my early manhood, it has been my lot to be 
 usually regarded by strangers as belonging to the
 
 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 179 
 
 clerical order ; but as I have never affected the garb 
 nor aped the manners of a reverend and " learned 
 clerk," I attribute the mistake to less discreditable 
 causes. It must, I think, have arisen from my usually 
 thoughtful aspect, together with my quiet demean- 
 our when I get into the company of strangers. At 
 these times I am too closel)' engaged in trying to 
 discover what sort of people I am with to have either 
 time or inclination to engage in desultory talk. I 
 can truly affirm that I despise the ridiculous vanity 
 which leads one to aim at seeming to be something 
 greater or wiser than he really is. It is many years 
 ago since I read the fable which narrates the disasteri> 
 that came upon a certain long-eared quadruped 
 through his folly in assuming the skin of the forest- 
 king. But I have never forgotten its moral, nor in any 
 great degree acted contrary to its tenor. 
 
 This leads me to notice that I have many times 
 had to tell well-meaning people why I have not 
 sought to become a teacher of religion. My answer 
 has been that I did not see myself to be a fitting per- 
 son for such an office. In this I was perfectly sin- 
 cere ; for although my natural love of retirement and 
 my taste for reading might, had opportunity offered, 
 have led me to some quiet nook by the banks of Isis 
 or of Cam, yet I could not have easily brought myself 
 to regard these predilections as a sufficient qualifica- 
 tion for the sacred office. 
 
 Having staid my full time at Portsmouth, I pre- 
 pared for my return home, and having enunciated 
 the unwelcome word " farewell " to my generous 
 and esteemed friend, I set out on my journey ; while
 
 180 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 
 
 he went to complete his preparations for his coming 
 voyage, over 
 
 " the wide Atlantic wave." 
 
 As my homeward journey was performed by day- 
 light, I had a more extensive and distinct view of the 
 country than it was possible to get when I first saw 
 it. We stopped for breakfast at an inn about eighteen 
 miles from Portsmouth. Our breakfast room was at 
 the back part of the house, and was lighted by a 
 large and deep bay-window, from which there was a 
 widely-extended and very beautiful prospect, — a 
 truly English landscape, such an one, probably, as 
 suggested the following animated description : — 
 
 *' Heavens ! what a goodly prospect spreads around, 
 Of hills, and dales, and woods, and lawns, and spires, 
 And glittering towns, and gilded streams, till all 
 The stretching landscape into smoke decays!'' 
 
 All my travelling companions were agreeable people, 
 but I could not avail myself of the conversation of 
 more than two. These were a disbanded military 
 officer and a discharged sailor. The first was a 
 courteous man, whose language and manners bespoke 
 him to be a gentleman. He was not disposed to be 
 taciturn, and therefore soon began to converse both 
 with myself and the veteran sailor, who turned out to 
 be a truly pleasant companion. It was at or about 
 the commencement of the shooting season, which 
 caused the officer to introduce the subject of the field- 
 sports common at that time of the year. This to me 
 was rather a perplexing topic — so much so, indeed, as 
 to make me fearful of getting into an awkward pre- 
 dicament. I, however, got on pretty well, as I had
 
 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 181 
 
 learned a little about these things from books and 
 newspapers ; perhaps, also, I acquitted myself all the 
 better by taking care not to pretend to have much 
 knowledge respecting them ; and, moreover, by con- 
 triving as often as I could to put myself in the posi- 
 tion of a learner. Thus I avoided disgracing myself, 
 while I gained some information respecting fowling- 
 pieces, dogs, partridges, and the like. 
 
 Sometimes, however, the conversation took another 
 direction, and then I was less apprehensive of falling 
 into any very egregious blunders. Yet here also I 
 endeavoured to be the learner, and not the teacher : 
 a plan which I heartily commend to all untaught or 
 inexperienced persons. 
 
 The sailor was a good specimen of the true British 
 seaman — frank, hearty, profuse, and careless of the 
 future^ so long as he could make a jovial time of the 
 'present. 
 
 In due time I reached home, and was very 
 well pleased with my excursion. I was, however, 
 sorry to find that my health had not been im- 
 proved thereby. Perhaps this was owing in some 
 measure to my own imprudence. During my stay at 
 Portsmouth, I partook rather freely of shell-fish and 
 fruit, both of which were in my case very indigestible 
 articles. I now paid dearly for my recent indulgence ; 
 having a sense of great weight and deadly coldness 
 in the stomach, from which I did not recover for 
 about a fortnight. My only excuse was that I did 
 not fully know the impropriety of my eating either 
 raw fruit or shell-fish of any description. From that 
 time, however, I have been more cautious, so that I
 
 182 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAX. 
 
 have seldom again suffered from similar causes. I 
 have, indeed, for more than twenty years almost en- 
 tirely abstained from every article of diet which I 
 have found to be difficult of digestion, however palat- 
 able it may have been, or however much I may have 
 had an appetite for it. 
 
 On my return home I forthwith resumed my accus- 
 tomed employment and amusements. Work was 
 still plentiful, as the breaking up of the large military 
 ■establishment in the barracks was not yet completed, 
 and therefore the trade of the town had not as yet 
 felt much of the depression which ensued upon the 
 total loss of that large market. 
 
 During the winter I thought little about public 
 affairs, as they were in a quiet state, except as re- 
 garded the unhappy contest with the United States oi 
 America. In this I could not take any but a painful 
 interest, for I could not bring myself to look upon it 
 in any other view than that of a most unnatural and 
 profitless quarrel. As to my fellovv-workmen, they 
 took their respective sides according to the tenor of 
 their political opinions; some wishing all manner of 
 success to the Americans, while others felt concerned 
 for the honour and well-being of their countrymen. 
 When I took part in these controversies it was with a 
 view to reconcile the opposing parties, by showing 
 them that there was no room for any other feelings 
 in respect of this war than those of unmitigated re- 
 gret. 
 
 But ere long both this and every other public 
 affair was thrown into the shade by our hearing that 
 the Emperor Napoleon had left Elba, for the purpose
 
 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 183^ 
 
 of re-asserting his claim to the crown of France. This 
 portentous, and to us wholly unexpected, event sup- 
 plied us with much new matter for political gossip. 
 Meanwhile all that had been done in the way of 
 breaking up the garrison was quickly repaired. All 
 the previous quiet was forgotten ; while the prepara- 
 tions for war were instantly begun, and thence- 
 forward carried on with almost incessant activity.. 
 Skeleton regiments arrived in quick succession, for 
 the purpose of being filled up, and othervvise prepared 
 for foreign service. The roll of the drum, the shrill 
 notes of the " spirit-stirring fife," with the sonorous 
 tones of trumpets and bugles, again greeted our ears, 
 and brought back all the warlike feelings and thoughts 
 which, for the few preceding months, had been in a 
 state of abeyance. There was an almost continual 
 influx into the barracks of men, stores, ammunition, 
 and all the other materials of war. The trades- 
 people of the town, together with the farmers and 
 market-gardeners of the neighbourhood, were busy 
 in supplying the wants of the garrison, and were all 
 sanguine in their hopes of another long-continued 
 time of prosperity. 
 
 Ere long, however, the decisive battle of V/aterloo 
 extinguished all their hopes of a long contest. Pre- 
 parations were again made for a state of peace. In 
 the course of a few months the garrison was dispersed, 
 the barracks were demolished, and the people of the 
 town and its vicinity were thrown upon their own 
 resources. These soon turned out to be very unequal 
 to the required purposes, and, in consequence, there 
 was soon much depression and adversity. Many of
 
 184 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 
 
 those who during the war had been large contractors 
 for the supply of various articles to the army, and 
 who, therefore, \yere thought to be wealthy men, now 
 turned out to be very poor. Their fine houses were 
 abandoned, their expensive style of living was laid 
 by, and they sank down to a comparatively humble 
 state ; in some cases, indeed, into actual poverty and 
 want. 
 
 I could not fail to perceive that a disastrous time 
 was coming ; and, further, that it would not quickly 
 pass over. This, together wdth a wish — perhaps a 
 natural one to him who has previously lived there — 
 again to live in the metropolis, led me to resolve 
 upon once more changing my quarters, which I soon 
 afterwards did, fully intending to make London my 
 future and settled home.
 
 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 185 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 I HAD secured a lodging in London prior to leaving 
 home. My landlord was a worthy man, whom I had 
 known for several years. He considered me rather as 
 an inmate than as a mere lodger, and thus I was 
 made all the more comfortable ; for I regularly took 
 my place with him and his family. Our little circle 
 was made additionally pleasant by the presence of 
 my landlady's brother, who lodged in the house : he 
 was a respectable and equally agreeable man. By 
 trade he was a spectacle-frame maker. As I some- 
 times visited his workshop, I saw the processes of 
 melting and otherwise prepai-ing the precious metals ; 
 with those of cutting and polishing tortoiseshell and 
 pearl. He was very ready to explain to me whatever 
 I wished to know respecting his work : a courtesy 
 which I took care to improve to the best of my power. 
 As he bought his materials in their rough state, I 
 had the better opportunity of learning the whole pro- 
 cess through which they had to pass. 
 
 We lived in the neighbourhood of the Seven Dials 
 — a rude, noisy, and dirty locality ; yet our house 
 was a commodious one ; while the many advantages 
 I enjoyed as a lodger were more than a counter- 
 balance against the out-of-door disagreeables. 
 
 I again joined a tailors' " House of Call ;" and, 
 after having worked for a short time for two or three
 
 186 MEMOir.S OF A WORKING MAN. 
 
 masters, %yjis sent, as a " maker of coats,"' to work for 
 a respectable master residing near Grosvenor Square, 
 with whom I contimied during the whole of the sub- 
 sequent time that I resided in London. Had I re- 
 mained in town 1 might, like some of my shopraates, 
 have continued in his emp]o3"ment until this day. 
 
 My workfellows were civil men ; and I made my- 
 self as much at home with them as the difference 
 between our tastes and habits would allow. I soon 
 acquired their good-will, which I retained by treating 
 them with courtesy, and by doing for them such little 
 things as were within the compass of my ability. 
 Thus I became their news-purveyor, i.e. I every 
 morning gave them an account of what I had just 
 been reading in ihe yesterday's newspaper. I read 
 this at a coffee-shop, where I took an early break- 
 fast on my way to work. These shops were but 
 just then becoming general. They greatly pleased 
 me, as I could vow get suitable and timely refresh- 
 ment in the morning, and that too in a warm and 
 otherwise comfortable room, with the very pleasant 
 accompaniment of a daily newspaper. The shop I 
 selected was near the bottom of Oxford Street. It 
 was in the direct path by which I went to my work : 
 I therefore lost no time by making it my breakfast- 
 house. The landlord was a civil, cleanly man, whose 
 unvarying attention to my comfort gained niy respect. 
 I continued to be his regular customer, until a neces- 
 sary change in my road to work, caused by my remov- 
 ing from the Seven Dials, made it necessary to find 
 another place of refreshment. The papers I generally 
 preferred to read were the 'British Press,' the ' Morn-
 
 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 187 
 
 ing Chronicle,' and the ' Statesman.' I usually con- 
 trived to run over the Parliamentary debates and the 
 foreign news, together with the leading articles. By 
 husbanding my time while dressing, walking, &c., I 
 managed to scan the newspaper without seriously 
 trenching upon my working hours. By much prac- 
 tice I eventually learned to make myself pretty well 
 acquainted with the chief contents of a newspaper in 
 a comparatively short time : an acquisition which I 
 have often found to be a very useful one. My shop- 
 mates were much pleased at the extent and variety 
 of the intelligence which I was able to give them 
 about public affairs ; and they were the more pleased 
 because I often told them about the contents of Mr. 
 Cobbett's 'Political Register,' as they were warm ad- 
 mirers of that clever and very intelligible writer. 
 Although I did not much respect the man., yet I felt 
 a good deal of interest in reading his political dis- 
 quisitions, because he seemed to me to have a happy 
 talent for making a difficult question plain to an 
 ordinary capacity. 
 
 At home I acquired increased facilities for reading, 
 by means of a small book-club, consisting of my land- 
 lord and a few of his friends. Of this I became a 
 member; and thus had the means of becoming a 
 little acquainted with works which I had not before 
 seen. Among these was Rollin's ' Ancient History,' 
 which greatly pleased me, although I was at a loss to 
 account for his seemwglij intimate knowledge of 
 what was done or said in the private cabinets of 
 monarchs and warriors two or three thousand years 
 before he wrote.
 
 1^ MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 
 
 I also had some good opportunities for borrowing 
 books ; and thus read that very interesting quarto 
 volume, Mr. Park's 'Travels in Africa.' I also read 
 i\Ir. Colquhoun's lai-ge treatise on the ' Police of the 
 Metropolis,' from which I gleaned much information 
 and amusement. For my private and sole use, seeing 
 that my friends had no taste for poetry, I bought Mr. 
 Pye's translation of Horace, and was well pleased 
 with my purchase ; for I found the old " Roman 
 poet" to be a very lively and shrewd companion. 
 I also ventured to spend a guinea in the purchase of 
 'Kirke White's Remains:' a large sum for one like 
 myself to spend at one time in buying books : yet I 
 had good reason to be satisfied; for the work was 
 useful to me in the way of strengthening and confirm- 
 ing my habits of reading and observation. I felt the 
 more at liberty to buy a book, because I incurred no 
 expenses on account of other amusements. 
 
 On Sundays I had the privilege — a great one for a 
 working single man in London — of taking my meals 
 with the family, and also of having a commodious 
 seat at the family hearth. For these accommodations 
 I was charged a very moderate price ; one that could 
 barely have covered the expense of my food. For 
 the fire nothing was charged, although it was always 
 a good one, and 1 had free access to it through the 
 whole of the day. 
 
 Thus, although it was winter-time, I felt none of its 
 hardships ; for I had a comfortable home, and was 
 supplied with work at good wages. I endeavoured 
 to make the best use I could of my advantages ; and, 
 I hope, with some success. My health also was
 
 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 189 
 
 better than while I lived in the country : the warmer 
 (and to me medicated) air of London being adapted 
 to relieve my constitutional ailments. I had no need 
 to look for amusement in new places, or among new 
 companions ; yet, when an opportunity offered itself 
 for an hour's recreation of this sort, I did not omit to 
 improve it. Thus on one occasion I found admission 
 to the meeting of a literary society, and heard a dis- 
 course upon the nature and operations of the " Ima- 
 gination," followed by a rather lively and, as I thought, 
 clever debate. On another occasion I found access 
 to the meeting of a society, before which a lecture 
 " On the Rise and Progress of Philosophy " was read 
 by the Reverend Dr. Collyer. At this meeting there 
 was present that truly illustrious prince, the late Duke 
 of Sussex : I thus, for once, had the gratification of 
 being in the immediate presence of royalty. For 
 both these pleasant additions to my usual recreations 
 I was indebted to my landlord, who had the means of 
 procuring tickets of admission to many different meet- 
 ings, literary and otherwise. 
 
 I have alluded to my change of residence. This 
 took place at Lady-day, 1816, when my landlord went 
 to live in Bedford-Court, Covent Garden, a place 
 which I have always regarded as being one of the 
 pleasantest and most convenient of its class. During 
 the winter, and while I was lodging in the Seven 
 Dials, I seldom strayed far out of my necessary path 
 in going to or from the shop, except that I sometimes 
 spent a few minutes of my dinner-hour in looking at 
 the splendid or curious articles exhibited for sale in 
 Bond Street, near which my master lived. But when
 
 190 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAX. 
 
 the spring-time came, and I had changed the place 
 of my lodging, I often went out of my proper road, 
 for the sake of breathing some fresher air, and of 
 s:azing on some fairer prospects than I could find in 
 the crowded streets which led directly to my home. 
 I therefore frequently went thither by the way of 
 Hyde-Park, Constitution-Hill, St. Jaraes's-Park, Char- 
 ing-Cross, and the Strand ; a rather circuitous route, 
 but one which I found to be very pleasant. I some- 
 times took a short walk in Hyde-Park during my 
 dinner-hour, and thus secured a little recreation at 
 no cost save that of abridging my eating-time : a 
 sacrifice I willingly made, for the sake of the plea- 
 sure it gave both to the body and the mind. I will 
 just add that I consider this park to be a salubrious 
 spot. I also regard it as being in many respects 
 beautiful ; but I must not stay to note down my 
 reasons for this opinion. 
 
 I occasionally varied my evening homeward walk ; 
 and then I either went down St. .James's-Street, and 
 along Pali-Mall and Cockspur-Street, to Charing- 
 Cross ; or walked through Hyde-Park, and down the 
 long line of Piccadilly, to Leicester-Square and St. 
 Martin's Lane. In both routes I gained my object — 
 an opportunity of getting a view of the book and 
 print sellers' shops ; where I seldom failed to see 
 something which 1 thought worth looking at. I thus 
 procured pleasure without expense ; and, after all, got 
 home in good time, and, moreover, in a sober state, 
 which was more than could be said of many among 
 my fellow-craftsmen, whose evening pastimes were, 
 in general, both chargeable and otherwise hurtful. ^
 
 MEMOIRS OF A AVORKING MA^. 191 
 
 In the morning I kept the direct path to my work, 
 as I then wanted all the time I could get for the pur- 
 pose of looking over the newspaper. I did this, as 
 usual, while I took my breakfast, which meal I now- 
 procured at a coffee-shop in Bear-Street, Leicester- 
 Square. Here I found the additional accommodation 
 of magazines and reviews : for reading the current 
 numbers of which the proprietor made an extra charge 
 of sixpence per month. This charge I was glad to 
 pay, for the sake of reading the Edinburgh and 
 Monthly Reviews, together with the Edinburgh, the 
 European, and the Monthly Magazines. 
 
 These, however, I read in the evening, while I took 
 my supper ; for I learned to drink coffee at that meal 
 as well as at breakfast-time. \n addition to the daily 
 newspapers, I also here saw the ' Examiner,', the 
 'Black Dwarf,' and, I think, some other weekly 
 journals. I have never spent leisure time more plea- 
 santly than at this shop. It was kept by a very 
 respectable man, whose children assisted him in wait- 
 ing upon the customers. The company was always 
 decent, and, in general, very quiet; for the landlord 
 resolutely discouraged all undue noise, and all irre- 
 gular deportment, both in his family and among his 
 visitors. 1 much regretted the good man's premature 
 decease, and the consequent breaking up of his very 
 convenient and comfortable arrangements. The shop 
 soon went into other hands, and has long been occu- 
 pied by a baker ; of whom I have sometimes bought 
 a roll, or a biscuit, out of regard to the place, which 
 to me is suggestive of many pleasant recollections. 
 
 On Sundays I was, as in all preceding years, quite
 
 192 MEMOIRS OF A WORKIXG MAN. 
 
 at my ease. In the morning I attended public wor- 
 ship in the neighbourhood of Carey-Street, Lincoln's- 
 Inn-Fields. In the afternoon I commonly employed 
 myself in reading, but sometimes walked a short 
 distance. On one of these occasions I went into the 
 banqueting-room at Whitehall Palace, then used as 
 a chapel for soldiers. The musical part of the service 
 was performed by a military band of musicians, and 
 I was well pleased with the music. I was, however, 
 much disgusted at the bare-faced cupidity of the pew- 
 openers ; while I was not able to get much of either 
 instruction or satisfaction from a service which was 
 sadly deficient in the necessary points of becoming 
 earnestness and reverence on the part of the wor- 
 shippers. The painted ceiling — representing heathen 
 gods and goddesses, together with a number of 
 martial trophies, French and American, suspended, 
 I think, over the communion-table, gave the place 
 an aspect very much at variance with that which 
 reminds one of Christianity and of its pacific and 
 benignant author. I hardly need add, that I never 
 again joined in the worship of this warlike temple. 
 
 I usually attended public worship in the evening 
 at the Scotch Church in Crown Court, near Covent 
 Garden— a plain and antique-looking building, at- 
 tended by a congregation of plain people. To me, 
 however, both the place and the service were truly 
 interesting. Here there was nothing of a merely 
 showy or ceremonious character, much less anything 
 that betokened irreverence or indifference. I was 
 greatly delighted with the singing. There were some 
 voices, clearly distinguishable from the others, which
 
 MEMOIKS OF A WORKING MAX. 193 
 
 I thought to be singularly melodious. That of the 
 precentor was marked by a plaintiveness of tone 
 which I felt to be productive of pensive yet not un- 
 pleasing emotion. I have spent many a happy hour 
 in the services of this unostentatious edifice — hours 
 which, could they, with all their attendant circum- 
 stances, be recalled, I would gladly live over again. 
 
 In my walk homewards in the evening on which the 
 Princess Charlotte of Wales was married, I saw a 
 nttle of the preparations which were then making for 
 her wedding. Her intended consort showed him- 
 self to the assembled populace from the balcony of a 
 window in St. James's Palace, which gave me an 
 opportunity of seeing him. Everybody seemed to be 
 in high spirits, and 
 
 " All went merry as a marriage-bell ;" 
 
 yet in how short a time was all this gaiety and re- 
 joicing exchanged for almost universal sorrow and 
 gloom ! In the course of a few months the inmates 
 of palaces were solemnly reminded that 
 
 " Pale Death, with equal foot, strikes wide tbe door 
 Of royal halls, and hovels of the poor."' 
 
 I also saw something of the riots consequent upon 
 the distressed state of the working classes in the 
 autumn of this year (1816). From what I know of 
 working men, I feel assured that none of reputable 
 character ever voluntarily take part in popular com- 
 motions. Such men as these are as thoroughly fond 
 of public tranquillity and safety as are the possessors 
 of large wealth. In times of distress they suffer 
 quietly, and, in general, patiently, buoyed up by the
 
 194 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAX, 
 
 hope of better times. In times of riot their only 
 fault is that of going to look at what is going on : 
 thus they often get both into danger and subsequent 
 disgrace. On the day of the rioting in London I was 
 engaged to walk to Bow ; but by the time I reached 
 Aldgate I saw and heard quite enough to make me 
 forthwith retrace my steps. 
 
 About midsummer of 1817 my father died, after an 
 illness of several weeks. On this I considered what 
 was my duty. I soon concluded that it was to send 
 some needful help to the living, rather than to take 
 an expensive journey out of respect for the dead. I 
 therefore remained at my work, and remitted 51. 
 sterling to my widowed mother. It was of course a 
 very seasonable supply, and I felt glad that I had 
 been led to send it. 
 
 When work was slack I spent my leisure time in 
 about the same way as I have already described, in re- 
 gard to similar circumstances. The principal alteration 
 consisted in my undertaking to mend my stockings 
 and body linen. I could not get this properly done, 
 although I offered to pay an extra price. I therefore 
 took the job into hand, and thus saved my money, 
 while my garments were kept in a decent condition. 
 This is a very trifling matter to put into a book, but 
 I note it down advisedly, in the hope that it may give 
 a useful hint to some young men now in similar cir- 
 cumstances. 
 
 I omitted to mention in its proper place another of 
 my contrivances. This, however, had reference solely 
 to amusement. In the winter of 1815-16, I resolved 
 upon attempting to think upon a given subject when
 
 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAX. 195 
 
 at work, and not caring to join in the shop-board con- 
 versation. I felt but small difficulty about subjects, 
 but was rather at a stand in respect of the dress or 
 shape into which I should put my thoughts. I soon 
 decided it should be into that of rhyme, and immedi- 
 ately set about tagging verses. This I did until it 
 became so much of a habit that I have engaged in it 
 at all times, in all places, and under every variety of 
 circumstances. Before I was properly aware of the 
 fact, I have many times been thus occupied. I 
 amused myself by making rhymes for about ten 
 years, during which time 1 generally had something, 
 in the shape of verse, upon which I employed my 
 thoughts, when I could lawfully detach them from 
 more pressing matters. I thus accumulated a rather 
 large stock of verses, in different measures and on 
 various subjects. Much of this has been destroyed. 
 The remainder has been several times revised. In 
 each of these revisions it has been greatly altered and 
 abridged. A good many pieces have been printed 
 in a respectable although little known Magazine. 
 Several have appeared in other publications. I have 
 seen them commended in print. My only other re- 
 compense has been the pleasure I felt in composing 
 them. I have now as many unpublished pieces as 
 would make a volume of moderate size, but I dare 
 not think of publishing them while real poetry is 
 little better than a mere drug in the literary market. 
 Will the reader bear with me if I transcribe one piece 
 as a specimen ? If it escape his censure I must be 
 content, for as I am not a poet I cannot claim a 
 poet's praise : — ^ 
 
 i2
 
 196 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 
 
 EVENING. 
 
 Sinks the sun in western skies ; 
 In the east dun shadows rise : 
 Now the clouds are ting'd with gold; 
 O'er the stream blue mists are roll'd. 
 Now the cool refreshing breeze 
 Gently whispers through the trees ; 
 Now the curfew-bell is rung, 
 And the old tower, ivy hung, 
 Far reverberates the sound 
 Through the vales and rising ground. 
 Now the shepherd to the fold 
 Drives his flock, first duly told ; 
 While his faithful dog goes round, 
 Catching every distant sound; 
 Nur his charge will he forsake 
 Till the rosy morn shall wake. 
 Now the bat is on the wing; 
 Nightingale and sedge- bird sing : 
 Other birds are in their nests ; 
 E'en the bee from labour rests. 
 Crickets chirp their merry strain : 
 Glow-worms light tlieir lamps again. 
 Now the " star of eve "' is seen. 
 Harbinger of night's fair queeu. 
 Now the peasant homeward hies, 
 And, with heart-felt gladness, spies 
 On the margin of the green. 
 By a stranger seldom seen, 
 His secluded quiet cell, 
 Where "tis his blest lot to dwell 
 With the partner of his life, 
 Free from discontent and strife : 
 Where be seeks and finds the bliss 
 Which the sons of pleasure miss. 
 
 After my fathers death I met with nothing that 
 much affected me until the occurrence of that event 
 which seemed to touch the hearts of the entire British 
 people. I stay not to speculate upon the causes of 
 that universal favour with which the deceased princess
 
 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 197 
 
 was regarded. That she was the object of the nation's 
 unaffected good wishes, and the anchor of its hopes, 
 were facts too palpable to admit of dispute. In these 
 feelings I warmly participated, and ventured to hope 
 that I might partake of the benefits expected to result 
 from her assumption of sovereign authority. I was 
 ill prepared for the unexpected event which blighted 
 this hope, and seemed to spread a dark cloud over all 
 that had gilded the future. But it was not on these 
 grounds alone that I felt regret. There were other 
 and better feelings called into exercise. I could not 
 help grieving at the sudden wreck of life, with all its 
 enjoyments, on the part of one whose age, character, 
 and pursuits seemed to promise her a more than ordi- 
 nary share of happiness. The affecting circumstances 
 of her death added greatly to the painful emotion 
 which that event, under a milder aspect, would then 
 have produced. I was truly much more grieved than 
 I should previously have thought possible on account 
 of any one but a near and tenderly beloved relative. 
 The plaintive remonstrance of the ancient patriarch, 
 " Wherefore hast thou made all men in vain ?" forced 
 itself upon me, in spite of the conviction that I ought 
 rather to say, " Shall not the Judge of all the earth 
 do right?" 
 
 On the evening of the funeral I was alone, and in 
 a very quiet place, being engaged to keep house for 
 a friend. I thus distinctly heard the solemn tolling 
 of the numerous bells which announced that the 
 mortal remains of one who was so lately among the 
 happiest of the living were about to be consigned to 
 the " grave's narrow house." I never had a more
 
 198 mp:moiks oi" a working man. 
 
 impressive lesson upon the precaiiousness of human 
 Ule, or the fleeting shadowy character of earthly 
 sp'andeur and felicity. I did not fully recover my 
 usual tranquillity of feeling for several weeks, or 
 rather months, after the occurrence of this disturbing 
 event. 
 
 T should have liked to purchase an engraved por- 
 trait of the deceased princess, but was utterly unable 
 to determine which of the numerous different ones on 
 sale was a likeness. They differed so widely, even 
 those executed by artists of reputation, that but for 
 the lettering I certainly should not have judged them 
 to be intended to represent the same person. I have 
 often, in other cases, had occasion to notice a similar 
 difference, and have been at a loss to account for it, 
 except in a way not creditable to the respective 
 artists. In spite of all that I have read or heard to 
 the contrary, I still venture to think that portraits 
 ougiit to be faithful imitations of their originals, 
 otherwise I do not see of v.hat use they are or can be. 
 They cannot, at any rate, assist the spectator to form 
 a correct opinion concerning the true aspect and pro- 
 bable character of the person represented. 
 
 I now come to the year 1818, in the spring-time of 
 which I made an excursion into Hertfordshire ; walk- 
 ing, byway of Edgeware, to Watford, and riding from 
 thence to Hemel-Hempstead in a retur7iing post- 
 chaise. This was one of the most delightful holidays 
 of ray life. I had long been confined to London or 
 its immediate vicinity, and therefore the transition 
 from a scene of noise and turmoil, and mere worldli- 
 ness, to one of rural quiet and beauty, was truly re-
 
 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAX. 199 
 
 Freshing. It was made still more so by its suddenness. 
 After I got beyond Edgeware I felt myself to be in 
 the country. At Watford I staid to get refreshment, 
 fully intending to foot it all the way to where I was 
 going. This I was prevented doing by the weather 
 becoming showery. I therefore ventured upon the 
 expense of riding, and a most pleasant ride it was ; 
 for the showers and sunshine alternated, and thus the 
 scenes around me became, as I thought, additionally 
 beautiful, as within a short time I saw them under 
 two different aspects. For a considerable distance 
 the road skirted a large park. The rays of the de- 
 clining sun, beaming through the foliage of its planta- 
 tions, and irradiating my pathway, gave occasion to 
 my imagination for thinking about other and yet 
 more enchanting scenes. It was after sunset when I 
 reached my journey's end. The evening was delight- 
 fully clear and serene ; the air cool, yet soft and fra- 
 grant ; while the animal creation was either silent, 
 or gradually becoming so. The following morning 
 was equally, although differently, beautiful. It was 
 most resplendently bright and animating. My heart 
 rejoiced both at the " season and the scene," for I felt 
 both to be eminently cheering. Before I returned to 
 London I went by a cross-road to St. Albans. In my 
 walk I stopped to get some refreshment at a rustic 
 alehouse, whose landlady, a very decent-looking, civil 
 woman, seemed almost surprised at being asked for 
 *' a cup of tea." After some doubting and difficult}^ 
 the necessary ingredients were hunted up, and at 
 length I got some palatable, although not very strong, 
 tea, with bread and butter. As to milk or cream, my
 
 200 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 
 
 hostess seemed to have no means of furnishing either 
 the one or the other. Yet I \\as very well pleased 
 with ray inn : for although it was a humble one, in 
 fact the humblest I had ever seen, still everything 
 was clean, and in tolerably good order. I thought 
 St. Albans to be a pleasant little town. A large ec- 
 clesiastical structure, principally in ruins, struck me 
 as having once been very magnificent. 
 
 It was about this time that I first read that very 
 beautiful poem, ' The Pleasures of Hope.' I also re- 
 perused a large portion of Cowpers Poems ; and, in 
 spite of the unfavourable accounts of it given by critics, 
 resolved upon reading Thomson's ' Liberty.' This re- 
 solution I carried into effect, to my very considerable 
 amusement, if not instruction. As to its poetical 
 merits, I did not venture to sit in judgment upon 
 them. 
 
 i^r I now found out another pleasant spot for an even- 
 ing walk, which, moreover, was at a very convenient 
 distance from my lodging. This was none other than 
 Waterloo Bridge, over which there was so little traffic 
 of any sort as to leave the bridge in a most quiet, in- 
 viting state for a saunterer like myself. I thought 
 the penny charged for toll a very cheap price for the 
 privilege of walking at my ease, and breathing the 
 fresh air as long as I pleased ; yet I think it would 
 have given me more satisfaction to have seen such an 
 amount of traffic over this magnificent structure as 
 would have given the shareholders in the concern a 
 fair return of interest upon their enormous outlay of 
 capital. 
 
 The calling of a new Parliament 2:ave me an oppor-
 
 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 201 
 
 tunity of seeing the way in which a Westminster elec- 
 tion was sometimes conducted. I have seldom wit- 
 nessed a more disorderly scene than that which was 
 exhibited at and near the hustings during the long 
 period of fourteen or fifteen days. The contest was 
 prolonged until the latest hour allowed by law, through 
 the folly of one candidate, the then celebrated Mr. 
 Henry Hunt, who polled, after all, no more than about 
 eighty votes. His partisans were men of the lowest 
 character, whose unruly and frequently riotous conduct 
 greatly impeded the business of the election. They 
 did much damage to several houses occupied by the 
 committees or friends of the candidates to whom they 
 were hostile. Their rioting was several times of so 
 serious a character as to call for the interference of a 
 military force. This they insulted in the grossest 
 manner, although, whenever it was directed by the 
 magistrate to disperse them, they fled with the greatest 
 precipitation into the market-place, and sheltered 
 themselves in its nooks and corners, where the soldiers 
 could not follow them without risking the safety of 
 their horses. Some of the stragglers, however, got 
 smart blows from the broad-sides of the soldiers' swords, 
 at which I was glad, and only wished that each de- 
 linquent could have been punished in like manner, 
 for I was indignant at their ruffianly conduct. What 
 I here saw of mob law, together with what T had pre- 
 viously seen of it on several other occasions, inspired 
 me with a real horror at the thought of mob govern- 
 ment, and led me to conclude that by far the worst 
 despotism is that which such a government exercises. 
 The only gratifying circumstance in this long and 
 
 i3
 
 202 MEMOIRS OF A AVORKING MAN. 
 
 wearisome election was the manner in which that 
 great and good man, Sir Samuel Romilly, was elected. 
 There was no noise or show on either his part or that 
 of his friends, yet he was returned at the head of the 
 poll, and numbered among his supporters a very large 
 portion of the truly respectable men of Westminster. 
 I felt deeply grieved at his premature death ; and the 
 more so, because of the lamentable circumstances that 
 led to it. This event was, I think, regretted by men 
 of all political parties. The great heat of the sum- 
 mer gave me much bodily inconvenience — so much, 
 indeed, at times as made me consent to sacrifice an 
 afternoon's earnings, for the sake of getting into a 
 cooler place than a tailor's workshop. On these oc- 
 casions I usually went into the shaded parts of Hyde- 
 Park or of Kensington Gardens. In the latter I re- 
 member to have passed one afternoon in a very plea- 
 sant way. I sat in a quiet, well-shaded spot, where I 
 had the benefit of a cool atmosphere, and read once 
 more Dr. Beattie's ' iMinstrel ' — a poem which pleases 
 me now quite as much as it did then. It is one of the 
 poems of which I am never weary ; from which cir- 
 cumstance alone, were there no other evidence, I 
 should be led to infer that it is true poetry — the 
 poetry of the heart no less than of the imagination. 
 Some of my shopmates, who were oppressed in like 
 manner as I was, went, for the professed purpose of 
 being more cool, to drink porter and to play at skittles 
 or Dutch-pins— for which folly I rallied them pretty 
 freely, and I hope with some good effect. 
 
 There was much curious speculation among scien- 
 tific men as to the causes and probable consequences
 
 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 203 
 
 of the unusual heat of the season. I read some of 
 these, and was thereby half-persuaded that Great 
 Britain and other northern countries were about to 
 enjoy the advantages of the tropical regions. I hardly 
 need say that all these pleasing visions were ere long 
 effectually dissipated by a return to our usual tem- 
 perature, or rather, to one more than usually cold 
 and variable. I have ever since had less faith in 
 theories hastily constructed upon a few accidental or 
 isolated facts.
 
 204 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAX. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 Hitherto I have not directly touched upon that 
 subject which, above all others, may be said to be 
 of universal interest, and which, therefore, has so 
 prominent a place in almost all books that treat of 
 human feelings and actual experience. Herein I 
 have acted advisedly ; I did not think it either 
 needful or prudent to narrate my own thoughts and 
 feelings upon this subject. They will be easily con- 
 jectured by such as know the power of a lively and 
 creative imagination ; while such as do not, would 
 be unable rightly to understand what might be 
 stated concerning them. It \\\\\ hardly have been 
 supposed by any one that I should have lived for 
 nearly twenty-seven years without frequently thinking 
 upon a matter which " comes home to men's bosoms " 
 — if not to their " business '" — in a way so forcible as 
 this generally does. In good truth, I had thought 
 about it both frequently and anxiously long before I 
 w^as twenty years old. Indeed, were I disposed to be 
 fully explicit upon this matter, I could tell more than 
 one little tale, referable to my very early life, at 
 which some would perhaps smile ; while others might 
 be a little sceptical. The feelings were childish 
 enough, in all conscience, as were the incidents that 
 produced them. Yet, childish as they were, I have 
 never been able to account for them in a satisfactory
 
 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 205 
 
 way. After my seventeenth year, my feelings were 
 not difficult to interpret, although for several years 
 they were perhaps more than sufficiently romantic 
 and changeable. Yet, had they been less so, I had 
 not so long remained a bachelor. I could not pro- 
 cure the means of accommodating what I saw to be 
 the realities of a working-man's domestic life to the 
 desires of the heart ; and thus I allowed year after 
 year to glide away, until the visionary feelings that 
 made me hesitate, had given place to those of a more 
 sober and matter-of-fact character. By the aid of 
 these I felt content to take things as I found them, 
 and to give up my long-cherished wishes for what I 
 now saw was wholly unattainable. This change was, 
 doubtless, partly brought about by the mere lapse of 
 time ; but it was also, in part, the result of much ob- 
 servation, and some reading. As to the latter, I 
 could not find much that suited my purpose. I read 
 a volume which was called 'The Guide to Domestic 
 Happiness,' but found that it had no direct bearing 
 upon the case of a working-man— all its reasonings, 
 counsels, and encouragements being based upon the 
 supposition of the reader's being a person of sub- 
 stance and education. The only publication I met 
 with which at all came up to my wishes was one called 
 ' Letters on the Marriage State ;' but even this bore 
 only in a distant way upon the case in question. 
 What T wanted was a book which would give me 
 some additional information as to the best means of 
 duly attending to business, without that total neglect 
 of mental culture so common among working people 
 and little tradesmen. After all, however, I was left
 
 206 MLMOlliS OF A >V01tKl.\G MAN. 
 
 pretty much in the same state as before 1 had con- 
 sulted these guides. Still I was disposed to believe 
 that 1 might find enough leisure time for engaging a 
 little in intellectual pursuits and pleasures without 
 any neglect of positive duties. I Iherefore resolved, 
 when opportunity offered, to make the experiment, 
 and it was not long ere I saw a prospect of being able 
 to do so. This brings me to observe that towards the 
 close of 1818 I casually met with my future wife. 
 \Ve had known each other for nearly ten years, and, 
 moreover, were well acquainted with each other's 
 previous history. We had seldom met, and then, as 
 in the present instance, quite accidentally. On this 
 occasion, however, it occurred to me that we might 
 very properly see each other more frequently. I 
 thought thus, because I now seriously intended to 
 make her my future companion, provided she were 
 content and at liberty to be so ; for, while I hesitated 
 about becoming a married man, I would not allow 
 myself to keep company with a woman, lest I should 
 do her wrong either by exciting expectations that 
 might be disappointed, or by indirectly preventing 
 her being noticed by another man. I had learned to 
 believe that my domestic happiness did not depend 
 upon my having v.hat is quaintly called a "bookish 
 v^oman" for my wife, but that it would be greatly de- 
 pendent upon my choosing one of plain good sense 
 and of thoroughly domestic habits. I had now met 
 with such an one, and, as we were not strangei-s, it 
 required no hesitation on either side before deciding 
 upon our plans for the future. Our first intention 
 was to have remained in London : but we were sub-
 
 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAX. 207 
 
 sequent]}' led to determine upon settling in my native 
 town. The chief reasons for this determination were 
 — a desire to be so near to my mother as to be able 
 to help her better than we could if living at a dis- 
 tance, and a hope that I might be able to establish 
 myself in a small tailoring business on my own ac- 
 count. I also thought that, in the event of our hav- 
 ing children, we should be better able to take due 
 care of both their health and morals in a country- 
 town than we could reasonably expect to be in such 
 a London residence as we should be obliged to have. 
 About the end of May, 1819, we were married, at 
 St. Paul's, Covent Garden, which was my parish- 
 church. We spent a part of our wedding-day in 
 looking at the Royal Artists' exhibition of paintings 
 at Somerset House, in which we found much that 
 gave us very pleasant entertainment. Afterwards, as 
 the day was beautifully clear and serene, we indulged 
 ourselves with a short excursion, in a westerly direc- 
 tion, upon the broad and gently-flowing Thames. 
 Within two or three days after our marriage we went 
 into the country, and immediately set about trying to 
 effect our purposes. Herein we found considerable 
 difficulty, part of which was, for some time, insur- 
 mountable. Had we been able to afford it, we should 
 Ibrthwith have returned to London ; as it was, however, 
 we determined to do the best we could, and 1o wait 
 for more favourable times. Although I could not get 
 many clothes to make on my own account, yet I did 
 not want for work as a journeyman. I had obtained 
 the promise of employment at my former master's 
 before I left London, and therefoie was so far pro-
 
 208 MEMOIRS OF A -WORKING MAN. 
 
 vided for. My good wife assisted rae at the needle 
 both cheerfully and efficiently. The first year of our 
 course was a rather rough one ; still we had many 
 comforts, and some amusement. For myself, I was 
 amply provided with the naeans of passing all my 
 little leisure in a pleasant way. By the courtesy of a 
 friend I had the loan of Mr. Pope's poetical works, 
 together with his translations of Homer's ' Iliad ' and 
 'Odyssey.' I also read Mr. Hervey's 'Theron and 
 Aspasia,' but with no great pleasure, because of its 
 chiefly dwelling upon controverted points of theo- 
 logy. I was induced to read it by a sense of what 
 was due to the request of a valued friend. As to Mr. 
 Pope's works and translations I read them with much 
 satisfaction. In passing, I must observe that of 
 Homer's poems I greatly preferred the ' Odyssey ;' for 
 the ' Iliad ' was too full of warlike descriptions for 
 one of my pacific temper. I still retain this prefer- 
 ence. My reading-times were at my meals, and after 
 I had left work in the evening. The winter was a 
 severe one — quite enough so, indeed, to demolish all 
 the fine theories respecting the felicitous issue of the 
 great heat of ]818. When it was over, I began to 
 steal a few moments occasionally for the purpose of 
 looking upon the fair and sweet face of nature. It 
 was at this time, I think, that I read Mr. Rogers's 
 very beautiful poem called ' Human Life," and also a 
 history of the recent wars. In the early part of April 
 my wife brought me a son — a circumstance which 
 awakened new feelings, and also stirred rae up to be, 
 if possible, yet more diligent and provident in regard 
 to household wants. Towards the close of the year
 
 MEMOIRS OF A MORKING MAN. 209 
 
 I was unable to work for a fortnight, through lame- 
 ness, but we had the resource of a beneiit-club, the 
 allowance from which helped us through this difficulty 
 pretty well. While laid by from work, I read Mr. 
 Mackenzie's ' Man of Feeling ' and other tales. I 
 thought them a little too highly coloured to be of 
 any great use, considered as pictures of men and man- 
 ners. In the course of the ensuing spring (1821), 
 I read Mr. Washington Irving's 'Sketch-Book.' I 
 thought it very beautiful, and only wished that he 
 had more fully carried his fine imaginative powers 
 beyond 
 
 '•' this visible diurnal sphere.*' 
 
 By the way, I must observe that a similar defect 
 exists in Akenside's ' Pleasures of the Imagination ;' 
 a poem which in every other respect gives me very 
 great satisfaction. I also read some volumes of the 
 ' London Magazine,' which I thought to be a very 
 cleverly conducted publication. On the anniversary 
 of my birth-day (July 5) my wife made me a birth- 
 day present, in the shape of a (second) son. I had 
 not learned to consider such events as calamities, and 
 therefore, when a well-meaning man expressed his 
 regret at my being so heavily burthened, I frankly 
 told him that I could not join therein, and so our con- 
 ference ended. 
 
 In the autumn season I ventured to accept the in- 
 vitation of a friend, who had visited me, to accom- 
 pany him on his return home. We walked nearly 
 twenty-five miles of the way thither, and thus made 
 the journey both a cheap and pleasant one. On this 
 visit I saw and went much about the extensive ruins
 
 210 ME3I01U3 OF A WOKKING MAX. 
 
 of that once magnificent castle wliere the too-cele- 
 brated Queen IMar}- found an asylum prior to her be- 
 coming the sovereign of England. On my return, we 
 hired a small tenement adjoining the one occupied 
 by my mother, for our increased numbers made a 
 change needful. We had but little room to spare, 
 yet as a worthy and aged woman expressed a strong 
 wish to be our inmate, we contrived to accommodate 
 her, and had no reason to regret having done so. She 
 was a most kind-hearted woman, and very attentive 
 to our children. Thus she acquired and preserved 
 our cordial esteem. She continued with us until her 
 decease — a period of about eighteen months. I 
 ought to have observed before now, that in the spring- 
 time of this year. (1821) I began to be well supplied 
 with work on my own account. I thought it remark- 
 able that while I continued to seek master-work I 
 could not succeed ; whereas, when I had long given 
 up all thought or hope about it, work came to me 
 spontaneously, and from (juarters whence I should 
 least have looked for it. I did not feel at liberty to 
 regard this as a matter of mere chance. Ere long I 
 had so much of this kind of employment that I could 
 not serve a master. I therefore intimated this to 
 mine, and thus we parted company upon good terms. 
 The majority of my customers found their own 
 cloth and the other principal materials, which, as I 
 had no capital, ivas a great convenience. When I 
 was required to supply these things I found a friend 
 in the person of my i'ovmer juvenile master. He had 
 now succeeded to his late father's business, and was 
 quite as willing to give me credit for what I wanted.
 
 MEMOIKS OF A WORKING MAX. 211 
 
 in the way of trade, as he had formerly been to lend 
 me his books. I owe him a very large amount of 
 gratitude for very much kindness during more than 
 ten years' dealings with him as a draper. He also 
 again freely supplied me with the loan of books. At 
 this time he lent me several volumes of the 'New 
 Monthly Magazine,' among the many very interest- 
 ing articles in which I was especially pleased with 
 the ' Letters from Algiers,' written by Mr. Thomas 
 Campbell, the eminent poet. Thus I found myself 
 in as comfortable circumstances as I could reasonably 
 have expected. My increased expenses were met 
 by an increased income, and I felt satisfied with my 
 condition. It was needful that I should work very 
 closely, and for many hours on every working-day ; 
 but this was no hardship : on the contrary, I was 
 glad to beTully employed, for the sake of being able 
 to maintain my household. 
 
 I am now brought to the year 1822, during which 
 1 worked very hard, but still found a little time for 
 amusement ; this, of course, w^as at the usual seasons. 
 During this year I read an odd volume of that curious 
 ])ublication the ' Anti-Jacobin Review,' from which 
 I gathered a little that pleased me. Among other 
 things I met with some views respecting the conduct 
 of Judas Iscaiiot towards his Divine Master which 
 to me were quite new. I, however, thought them 
 both reasonable and probable. I also read Mr. 
 O'Meara's 'Voice from St. Helena,' Dr. Henderson's 
 'Travels in Iceland,' and Captain Parr}'^'s 'Narrative' 
 of his Arctic voyage. I must here beg the reader to 
 remember that henceforth when I say that I have
 
 212 MEMOIRS OF A AVORKIXG MAX. 
 
 read any book, it will only mean that I gave it a 
 hasty perusal, for I had no time for close reading. 
 
 In the month of December of this year I had a 
 daughter born, to whom my aged lodger was remark- 
 ably attentive. At the close of this year, therefore, 
 I stood in a position widely differing from that which 
 I occupied at the close of 1818. In not more than 
 four years I found myself transformed from a single 
 man, almost wholly free from care, into a house- 
 holder, a landlord, a husband, a father, and a little 
 tradesman. I felt the weight of the responsibility 
 resting upon me, yet I hoped for strength equal to 
 the day. 
 
 The year 1823 passed on with an even course. My 
 daily task and my household affairs underwent no 
 change that requires any particular notice. My little 
 business continued to increase, and I made every 
 possible exertion to get through it without employ- 
 ing help. I often worked until midnight, and some- 
 times until a much later hour. I had but little exer- 
 cise except that which I took when obliged to go 
 out upon business. The bad effects of this unremit- 
 ting application were ere long manifest. I suffered 
 much from indigestion, and the other ailments con- 
 nected therewith. Once more my asthmatic disorder 
 began to give me some trouble. Altogether I was a 
 good deal shattered, and had some smart fits of ill- 
 ness. These, however, for a time gave way to the 
 power of medicine, and thus I was enabled to keep 
 at my business, although with less effect than for- 
 merly. I had now frequently to employ a journey- 
 man, not, however, so much on account of my broken
 
 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 213 
 
 health as on account of my little business continuing 
 to increase. In addition to the help of a man, I had 
 that of a youth who offered himself as an apprentice. 
 He was a very industrious, clever, attentive lad, and 
 soon made an excellent workman. He had a general 
 notion of the business before he came into my ser- 
 vice, having been what is called a " trotter " in a 
 large and respectable tailoring-trade. I have great 
 reason to respect him, and I have some grounds for 
 believing that he respects his former master. 
 
 In the autumn of this year I left home for a week, 
 with a view to the benefit of my health ; but, as I 
 could not afford to do this without at the same time 
 doing some business, I tried to get orders for clothes 
 among the friends I visited. They very cordially 
 seconded my views, and I returned home in some- 
 what better health, and with orders for about five 
 suits of clothes. During my excursion I visited Lon- 
 don, Grays, and Gravesend, at each of which places I 
 did some business, and moreover was kindly treated. 
 
 I made a similar journey, and with like results, in 
 each of several following years. It must have been 
 during this year that I began to read a work which 
 gave me much and unalloyed pleasure : this was 
 ' The Modern Traveller,' edited by Mr. Conder. I 
 read the parts consecutively, and was so much pleased 
 with them that I looked for their publication with 
 great interest. By favour of my friendly draper I 
 also had the high satisfaction of looking over the ele- 
 gantly written and very entertaining ' Letters ' of Mr. 
 Gray, together with M. Sismondi's ' History of the 
 Literature of the South of Europe.'
 
 214 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 
 
 In June, 1824, my good wife gave me a third son. 
 Duiing the time of her confinement my health gave 
 way rather seriously. Soon after she got about again 
 I was seized by a severe illness, from which I did not 
 recover for nearly a month. By this attack I was so 
 much enfeebled that I was barely able, in the first 
 stage of my convalescence, to sustain the weight of 
 my newly-born child. From this time my health be- 
 came more infirm than formerly, being frequently, 
 and sometimes seriously, interrupted. Yet I conti- 
 nued to go on with no greater relaxation of my exer- 
 tions than was quite imperative. I found that medi- 
 cine was of but little use, and was directed to pay a 
 strict regard to my diet, and also to the proper times 
 for repose. I did this, and ere long found myself 
 much relieved ; but still I did not recover my former 
 strength. 
 
 I now had much additional proof of the value of 
 a thoughtful and affectionate domestic partner. I 
 must not, however, enlarge upon this topic. Suffice 
 it to say that I found mine to be unwearied in her 
 efforts to promote my comfort by every possible 
 means.
 
 m7:moiks of a ^YORKI^o man. 215 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 In the course of this summer I was unanimously 
 elected a member of a literary society which num- 
 bered among its members many of the most respect- 
 able gentlemen, professional and private, of the town 
 and its neighbourhood. It also included a goodly 
 number of the principal tradesmen. I believe that I 
 was the only poor man of the whole number. This 
 very gratifying mark of good-will from men so much 
 my superiors in all respects I owed to the good offices 
 of my old and tried friend, the woollen-draper. He 
 told me that he wished I would take courage, and 
 allow him to propose me as a candidate. To this I 
 consented, and through his favourable representa- 
 tions I was elected. I now had the privilege of 
 hearing a good lecture monthly upon some subject 
 of real interest, and was, moreover, kindly noticed by 
 several gentlemen to whom I was previously a 
 stranger. It was imperative upon each member to 
 deliver a lecture in his turn, or pay a fine. This to 
 me was a rather formidable matter even to contem- 
 l^late ; but I ventured to hope for some loop-hole 
 through which I might retreat, and thus escape the 
 dreaded ordeal. But I was not to be thus favoured. 
 In the spring-time of 1825 my patron, who was one 
 of the secretaries of the society, came to my house 
 for the purpose of telling me that I was expected to
 
 216 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 
 
 take my proper turn in lecturing. I would fain have 
 got excused by paying the appointed fine, but found 
 that this would not be satisfactory. I therefore con- 
 sented to be duly announced as a lecturer. As I was 
 at a loss for a subject, my friend gave me one ; but I 
 felt afraid to grapple with it, and the more so because 
 I had never read anything directly treating upon it. 
 In fact, I was wholly ignorant of its theoiy. I, how- 
 ever, now^ began to get what help I could, and gave 
 the subject all the attention I was able to give. In 
 due time I read my lectm-e, and, to my great sur- 
 prise, no less than to my high gratification, found 
 that I had acquitted myself to the satisfaction of the 
 society. The issue was, that many of the members 
 noticed me in a very kind and encouraging way. I 
 had the offer of the loan of any books I might want 
 to aid me in the preparation of my second lecture 
 upon the same subject, for I proposed to give a con- 
 nected series ; and, moreover, was favoured with the 
 countenance of several most kind-hearted gentlemen, 
 to whom, subsequently, I owed much gratitude for 
 help given me in days of trouble and sickness. I 
 now began to reap a recompense for the trouble I 
 might have taken in getting a little intellectual know- 
 ledge. 
 
 I am now come to the latter part of the year 1825, 
 at which time it seemed needful that 1 should pro- 
 cure a larger habitation— our numbers having in- 
 creased to six, with the prospect of a further increase 
 in the early part of the ensuing year. In the course 
 of the winter I read some of Mr. Dugald Stewart's 
 ' Essays on the Human Mind,' together with a part
 
 MEMOIRS Oi' A WORKING MAN. 217 
 
 of Dr. Reid's on the same subject. I also read Mr. 
 Gary's translation of Dante, and Mr. Jowett's * Chris- 
 tian Researches.' 
 
 On January the 1st, 1826, I had a new-year's gift 
 in the person of a fourth son. He was born very 
 lame in one foot, but, by careful management, was 
 thoroughly cured by the time he was old enough to 
 require the use of it. At Lady-day I went into a 
 larger house, and again had a lodger, — an aged and 
 infirm military officer, who remained with us until 
 his decease, a period of about nine months. The 
 fatigue and anxiety I underwent in directing his 
 funeral, and in settling his affairs, brought on a very 
 severe illness — so severe that for some days ray reco- 
 very was a very doubtful matter. Again 1 experi- 
 enced the benefit of having a vigilant and willing 
 mirse, one who was so attentive to the wants of her 
 charge as to be regardless of her own. My recovery 
 was slow, and it was a good while before I could bear 
 the fatigue of even moderate exertion. While in 
 this state I read the 'Letters' of Lady Mary Wortley 
 Montagu, and some of Dr. Beattie's and Mr. Hume's 
 ' Essays ;' together with part of Dr. Beattie's ' Essay 
 on Truth.' As the spring came on I got strength, 
 and was far more active and useful than I could pre- 
 viously have hoped to be. 
 
 In March, 1827, my wife presented me with a 
 fifth son, so that we had now six children, none of 
 whom was capable of self-management. I now had 
 three apprentices and a journeyman. Our house, 
 therefore, was a busy scene, and the more so because 
 our circumstances required that we should add to our
 
 218 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 
 
 income by continuing to let lodgings. Amidst all 
 the complicated and numerous duties that now de- 
 volved upon me, I was required to prepare for read- 
 ing a second lecture before the literary society to 
 which I belonged. In the latter part of the spring- 
 time I read this lecture, and again was successful in 
 obtaining the approbation of ray auditors. This, 
 however, was the last time of my being their lecturer, 
 as the numberless duties and cares of my station, 
 coupled with my again declining health, effectually 
 prevented my having time for suitable preparation. 
 My labour, however, had not been lost. I had thereby 
 obtained the good-will of those whose circumstances 
 and disposition made them both able and willing to 
 afford me substantial help at a future day. 
 
 But, though I was compelled to give up ray con- 
 nexion with the literary society, I did not renounce 
 my habits of reading. My leisure-time was now 
 truly of small amount, yet, as I took care to avoid 
 wasting any part of it, I made it available to an ex- 
 tent which enabled rae to read as much as, perhaps, 
 was desirable. ■ 
 
 At the Michaelmas sessions of our Borough Court 
 I was called to serve on the petit jury. ]My brother 
 juryraen chose for our foreman a fine-looking, portly 
 man. From what followed I could not but think that 
 their choice was made upon much the same principle 
 that has sometimes governed nations in their selection 
 of a monarch. In the course of the proceedings a 
 prisoner was arraigned on a charge of " stealing from 
 the person." The counsel for the prosecution soon 
 got through his part of the case ; while the prisoners
 
 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 219 
 
 advocate seemed, as I thought, not over-zealous on 
 behalf of his client. It seemed to be admitted that 
 the prisoner was guilty ; so that the verdict of the 
 jury was anticipated. For myself I was not satisfied 
 with what had been done, and therefore took courage 
 to exercise the power belonging to a juryman, and 
 proceeded to cross-examine both the prosecutor and 
 his witnesses. I had some fear of being defeated in 
 my object by reason of all the latter being allowed to 
 be in court at the same time ; yet I determined to 
 go on, and the event proved that I was right in doing 
 so. At first I had some difficulty, because the 
 examinant demurred to my right of questioning him. 
 I set this matter at rest by an appeal to the court. Ere 
 long I succeeded in making the prosecutor, who had 
 just deposed to some minute circumstances, admit that 
 he had, within the space of a few hours before the 
 robbery, drunk so much of ardent spirit as to have be- 
 come nearly insensible. As to his witnesses, they did 
 not agree in their testimony. On these grounds I 
 doubted their evidence, and refused to agree in con- 
 victing the prisoner. I was the more unwilling to find 
 him guilty because of the singularly good character he 
 received from respectable people. At first I had but 
 two of my fellow-jurors willing to go with me, but I 
 kept to my determination, and, after the lapse of 
 about two hours, was able to direct our foreman to 
 say " not guilty." When the business of the day was 
 over, I learned, to my great surprise, that when 
 juries convicted a prisoner, it was customary for the 
 prosecutor to give them " something to drink.*' Our 
 foreman asked for this allowance, whereupon the
 
 220 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 
 
 town clerk, in a very emphatical manner, replied,'' Xo ; 
 you say ' not guilty.' " But for the immediate 
 breaking up of the court I should have asked whether 
 it were lawful or becoming in a jury to look for a 
 reward from prosecutors. I could not speak to its 
 lawfulness, but as to its propriety I had no doubt, and 
 therefore was heartily disgusted at it. 
 
 One of the witnesses for the prosecution was the 
 summoning officer. He was so much offended at my 
 having cross-examined him, that he never again gave 
 me a summons. Thus I got rid of a duty which was 
 too much for my strength, especially as I could not 
 allow myself to be a merely nominal juryman. 
 
 I now come to the year 1828, at the beginning of 
 which I was affected by a disorder of the head. For 
 this I was let blood, by cupping in the neck ; but the 
 remedy proved worse than the disorder, for I was 
 forthwith so feeble as to be hardly able to keep 
 about. I did not recover from the effects of this in- 
 judicious operation for a full year. About the middle 
 of May my wife gave me a second daughter. At this 
 time I could not but be painfully solicitous about the 
 future lot of my faithful partner and our large family 
 of young children. My health was in so broken a 
 state as to warrant my fears that it would not be 
 again restored ; yet I endeavoured to believe that all 
 might yet be well with us. Meanwhile I attended to 
 my duties as well as I could, and my ever-watchful 
 nurse took all possible care of my health. At 
 Michaelmas we again removed in order to accommo- 
 date a lady who wished for a lodging in the house to 
 which we went. As she promised to be a permanent
 
 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 221 
 
 inmate, and moreover to pay a fair amount of the rent, 
 we felt warranted in making the change. The house 
 was commodious, and in a very pleasant situation. 
 It also promised to be more conducive to my health 
 than that which we previously occupied. This pro- 
 mise was fulfilled, for I became better soon after we 
 had made the change. I had, however, much diffi- 
 culty of various kinds to struggle with ; much of 
 which had been created by my inability to work so 
 efficiently as I formerly could. Yet I did not give 
 way to despondency, as I continued to have a good 
 deal of business, and stood at a small expense for 
 house-rent. 
 
 About this time my second son was attacked by an 
 obstinate disorder, which baffled the efforts of medi- 
 cal skill. This added another to our many causes of 
 anxiety. In the month of November our infant 
 daughter was removed by death after a short illness. 
 I will not attempt to describe how this event affected 
 both myself and my wife ; I will only say for myself 
 that the deceased infant, had she lived, would, per- 
 haps, have engrossed too large a share of my af- 
 fections. 
 
 In the month of February, 1829, our fourth son 
 sickened, and soon died. This new bereavement, 
 occurring so soon after the former one, touched our 
 hearts deeply, and the more so because of the very 
 precarious state of our second son. Yet when we 
 committed the inanimate body to the grave, we did it 
 under the cheering influence of a " sure and certain 
 hope " with respect to the departed child, combined 
 with the belief that we should one day see him again.
 
 221? MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN, 
 
 But I forbear to enlarge, although the subject be one 
 that might perhaps excuse some prolixity. 
 
 The remaining part of the year passed without the 
 occurrence of anything very remarkable. Of course 
 there was no lack of new incidents in a household so 
 large as ours. We were fully occupied, and, I believe, 
 used our best exertions to turn our labour to a useful 
 account. As to reading, I had neither time nor 
 strength for more than a very little, yet I did some- 
 thing ; as I looked through a translation of the works 
 of that eminent divine, James Arminius, with which 
 I was well satisfied, but especially so with the pre- 
 fixed memoir of his life. I had also, for a few days, 
 the loan of Mr. Montgomery's ' Lectures on Poetry,' 
 a book which I should have been glad to read 
 thoroughly. 
 
 In the spring-time of 1830 I had a sixth son born. 
 My wife had now brought me eight children. From 
 this time she brought me no more. It was in this 
 year that a heavy calamity, which had long been 
 impending, overwhelmed my friend and creditor — the 
 woollen-draper. From the time of his beginning 
 business this event seemed almost inevitable, on ac- 
 count of the unfavourable circumstances necessarily 
 attending it. Yet even in his misfortunes he did 
 not forget to do me all possible service. By his re- 
 presentations I was enabled to make an easy settle- 
 ment with the assignees of his estate, and thus was 
 greatly relieved. I take pleasure in recording my 
 gratitude for his truly kind and generous conduct 
 towards me, and much regret that I have never been 
 able to make him any return, save that of thanks.
 
 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 223 
 
 The loss of so forbearing a creditor as he had 
 always been, gave me much subsequent trouble. It 
 was also the occasion of my losing several of my cus- 
 tomers, who had been accustomed to take a rather 
 long credit, but whom I was now forced to press for 
 earlier payment. At this they took umbrage, and 
 withdrew their support. 
 
 We continued to make every effort we could to get 
 a living and to act with integrity. With these views, 
 we crowded ourselves and children into a corner of 
 the house, that we might have room for a third lodger. 
 He proved to be a respectable, worthy man, of 
 studious habits and pleasant manners. He had long 
 been a commercial agent, first in South America, and 
 afterwards at Hamburgh. He staid with us the full 
 time which he had originally proposed to spend in 
 our neighbourhood. During this time he gained our 
 cordial esteem, and subsequently, by his generous 
 conduct, acquired a right to our warmest gratitude. 
 My other lodgers were a married couple. The hus- 
 band was a Wesleyan minister. Of him I had the 
 loan of a work which I had indeed previously read ; 
 but of which I was not tired, nor I believe ever 
 should be. This \vas the " Journal " of that great 
 and good man, the Rev. J. Wesley. I have long 
 regarded it as being equal in interest to Mr. Bos- 
 well's ' Life of Dr. Johnson,' although its contents 
 are, of course, very dissimilar. I also read many of 
 his other works in the course of the two years during 
 which our lodgers remained with us. I may just 
 observe that Mr. Wesley's style of writing is emi- 
 nently concise and clear ; well adapted to the capa-
 
 224 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAX. 
 
 city of the uneducated reader. A Cambridge scholar 
 has told rae that he thought it remarkable also for its 
 purity and simple elegance. 
 
 I continued to give such help as I could in a work 
 to which my assistance was requested in the year 
 1829 : it involved no neglect of my proper business^ 
 inasmuch as it v/as done only on Sundays ; while it 
 contributed to the benefit of my health, by giving me 
 some opportunities for exercise in the open air of the 
 adjacent country. These excursions were made in 
 different directions, and thus had the additional 
 charm of variety. How far they were useful to 
 others I know not ; to me, however, they were very 
 refreshing ; as in addition to their favourable bearing 
 upon my health, they brought me into contact with 
 many kind-hearted people, whose friendship I thus 
 acquired : some of them had afterwards a strong- 
 claim upon our grateful esteem. I now pass on to 
 the year 1831, during which nothing occurred that 
 calls for particular notice, except the decease of my 
 worthy mother. She died in the month of November, 
 **in a good old age." The meridian of her life was 
 overcast by dark clouds, and agitated by rude storms, 
 but its evening-time was tolerably bright and serene ; 
 while its end was " peace."' As I looked upon the 
 composed features of a face which I had often seen 
 expressing sorrow, or deep anxiety, I could not 
 but rejoice that she had at length done with the 
 cares of this troublous life, and had entered upon 
 a state of secure and perfect rest. While subse- 
 quently thinking about her, my thoughts threw 
 themselves into the shape of verse. Perhp.ps I may
 
 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 225 
 
 be forgiven if I insert the last stanza of what I then 
 composed. 
 
 *' Mother, farewell ! — whatever be the lot 
 Of us, thy children, in this world of care, 
 'Twill cheer us to reflect thou feelest not 
 One pang of all our griefs, but dwellest where 
 All is eternally secure and fair ; 
 And — while we toil along our thorny way, 
 Beset with many a dread and perilous snare — 
 Hast found repose, for thou hast pass'd away 
 
 From earth's unquiet scenes, to heaven's unruffled day."' 
 
 This brings me to the year 1832, during the greater 
 part of which our little affairs went on with a tole- 
 rably even current. I had a fair supply of work— 
 although the greater part was such as bore only a 
 very small profit ; my health was not seriously inter- 
 rupted, and we were disposed to bear up patiently 
 under the somewhat heavy burdens which former 
 afflictions had brought upon us. Our son, who had, 
 so long been ailing, became much better ; so much 
 so, indeed, as to encourage the hope of his being re- 
 stored to good health. Thus we went on until the 
 beginning of November, when we were called to 
 enter upon a scene of more than ordinary labour and 
 anxiety. Our house was already nearly crowded 
 with inhabitants: in the daytime they numbered 
 fifteen, and at night not fewer than eleven. An es- 
 teemed friend, who was in poor health, requested us 
 to'try to accommodate her for a short time with a 
 lodging. She wished for a room commanding a view 
 of the spacious and pleasant nursery-ground and 
 market-garden which almost surrounded our dwelling. 
 We met her wishes by giving up our bedroom. As 
 
 k3
 
 226 MEMOIRS OF A AVORKING MAN. 
 
 she brought with her a nurse and a sister, our already 
 thickly-peopled house was made inconveniently full 
 and busy ; yet we encountered the difficulty cheer- 
 fully, and struggled with it patiently. I was dis- 
 ordered by an asthmatic attack on the day when this 
 new scene opened upon us, and had to resort to a 
 rather strong dose of ipecacuanha at night in order to 
 get relief. On the following morning I breathed with 
 much more ease, and, although languid, set myself 
 diligently and resolutely to work ; our invalid son, as 
 was his constant habit, did all he could to help us. 
 He over-exerted himself, however, and, being further 
 injured by a heavy fall, soon relapsed, and became 
 seriously ill. Our friend also continued to get worse. 
 This went on until the latter part of December, when 
 our son died, and our friend followed him in about 
 thirty-six hours afterwards — both of them being worn 
 down and exhausted by severe and almost uninter- 
 mittent suffering. Our Christmas-day was a day of 
 sadness, yet not wholly unrelieved, for, while we were 
 gi'ieved at our double bereavement, we felt assured 
 that, in each case, we might 
 
 " Congratulate the dead, and crown the tomb 
 With wreaths triumphant.*' 
 
 The face of our deceased friend was marked by an 
 expression of acute suffering, which made it painful 
 to look upon ; her last hours of life were, indeed, 
 hours of sharp conflict with physical disorder, butcher 
 spirit was unbroken, for she looked confidently for'^a 
 better and brighter state of being. On the counte- 
 nance of our departed son, whose death was unat- 
 tended by pain, there was, from the moment of his
 
 MEMOIKS OF A WORKING MAN. 227 
 
 departure until the close of the third day afterwards, 
 an air of happy repose, such as I have never seen in 
 any other instance. It forcibly brought to my mind 
 that beautiful simile in Lord Byron's 'Giaour :' 
 
 '•' He who hath bent him o'er the dead 
 Ere the first day of death has fled ; 
 Before Decay's etfacing fingers 
 Have swept the lines where beauty lingers, 
 And mark'd the mild angelic air, 
 The rapture of repose that 's there, 
 The fixed yet tender traits that streak 
 The languor of the placid cheek — 
 ***** 
 
 He still might doubt the tyrant's power — 
 
 So fair, so calm, so softly seal'd 
 
 The first, last look, by death reveal'd."" 
 
 I was one of our deceased friend's executors, and, as 
 my co-executor lived at a considerable distance, the 
 sole direction of her funeral and the settlement of her 
 affairs devolved upon me. These duties, together 
 with the funeral of our son, and the claims of all my 
 other engagements, bore too heavily upon my feeble 
 frame, and in consequence I was soon afterwards 
 seriously ill. My asthmatic disorder came upon me 
 with much force, and I was soon a good deal reduced 
 in regard to strength. I wish to avoid even the sem- 
 blance of affectation, and therefore will not enlarge 
 upon the feelings produced by the decease of those 
 whom I loved or esteemed. Yet it may, perhaps, be 
 allowable to state, that these bereavements produced 
 much painful emotion. I sometimes fancied that I 
 heard the voices which Death had silenced, or saw 
 the forms that had descended into the grave. Alto- 
 gether I cannot help thinking that the very disor-
 
 228 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 
 
 dered state into which I now fell was, in part, the 
 result of pensive recollections ; at all events my 
 health, from that time, has been in a very broken and 
 disturbed condition. Throughout the year 1833 I was 
 much afflicted by my asthmatic complaint ; the at- 
 tacks were repeated at intervals of little more than a 
 month, and moreover were very violent — so much so 
 indeed, on several occasions, as to threaten a fatal 
 termination. Their effect upon both my person and 
 my affairs was not a little injurious. Towards the 
 close of the year, when I was slowly recovering 
 from one of these attacks, I was considering what 
 could be done to ward off a heavier disaster than any 
 which had hitherto happened to us. The subject was 
 both painful and complicated ; and 1 knew not what 
 to decide upon. All at once it occurred to me that 
 there was a possibility of getting some help by the 
 publication of what I had read before the Literary 
 Society. The impression remaining with me, and 
 growing stronger, I thought it well not to neglect it, 
 — being inclined to regard it as an intimation of 
 what I ought to do. I forthwith consulted the prin- 
 cipal members of the Society ; who advised me to 
 publish, and promised to assist me in getting sub- 
 scribers for the book. Their generous exertions 
 herein were far more successful than I could have 
 looked for; I did the best I could to prepare the 
 manuscript for the press ; and in the latter part of the 
 summer of 1834 it was published. The subscribers' 
 copies brought enough money to pay the printer's 
 bill, and also to leave me a most useful and timely 
 supply for my family. The copies remaining after
 
 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 229 
 
 the subscribers were served amounted to about six 
 hundred. These, partly by personal exertions, and 
 partly by the help of friends, were gradually sold. 
 The money they produced has oftentimes been the 
 means of saving us from painful privations. The 
 sale extended over a period of nearly six years. 
 Here then I saw the utility of having, when young, 
 sought amusement in reading and observation rather 
 than in the foolish or vicious pursuits which, in 
 general, are so eagerly followed by young men of my 
 own class. 
 
 But there were other, and still more valuable, 
 benefits which resulted from the publication of my 
 little book. It was reviewed in a good many different 
 journals, and, in each case, with much kindness on the 
 part of the reviewer. Some of these notices did me 
 good service ; but none of them was nearly so useful 
 as was one that appeared in a weekly Review, pub- 
 lished by an eminent and liberal-minded London 
 bookseller. I valued this the more, because I was 
 an entire stranger both to this gentleman and the 
 writer of the notice in his Review. By their assistance 
 it was that I became known to several kind-hearted 
 gentlemen, who, from that time to the present, have 
 been my generous patrons : to one of them, indeed, I 
 owe a very large debt of gratitude, for many and 
 various favours. I will only add, that nearly all the 
 tailoring business I have had for the last eight years 
 has come to me through having published my small 
 volume. 
 
 In the beginning of 1835 I had occasion to visit 
 London, and while there was attacked by my im-
 
 230 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAX. 
 
 placable enemy — asthma. At the commencement of 
 the attack I was put into considerable danger by one 
 of that reckless class of human beings — the cabmen. 
 I was in the street, and unable to speak more than a 
 word or two, on account of my very difficult respira- 
 tion. I made signs that I wanted to ride, when the 
 driver of the vehicle I had selected, who, I suppose, 
 judged that I was intoxicated, tumbled me about in a 
 way that was as unsafe as it was unpleasant. I re- 
 ceived a heavy blow on one of my legs, but thought 
 myself favoured in getting off without more serious 
 injury. The attack was a severe one, and left me in 
 a sadly enfeebled state : happily I was staying with a 
 most kind-hearted friend, who spared neither trouble 
 nor expense in order to relieve and restore me. 
 About the middle of this year I was invited to read 
 a lecture before a Society in a neighbouring town 
 to which I became known through my recently- 
 published book ; I accepted the invitation, and had 
 the pleasure of being both thanked and paid for my 
 services. Subsequently, at the request of a similai' 
 Society, I read this lecture a second time. It was 
 afterwards printed, and sold well enough to reward 
 me fairly for all the time and labour I had bestowed 
 upon it. 
 
 I am now brought to the year 1836 — the last of my 
 residence in the country, My sadly disordered state 
 greatly hindered me in my efforts to earn a living. 
 One of my kind patrons — a physician, who then took, 
 as he still most kindly takes, a great interest in my 
 well-being, advised me, if possible, to seek relief from 
 a change of air. He assured me that nothing more
 
 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 231 
 
 could be done for me in the way of medicine while I 
 continued to breathe the somewhat keen air of my 
 native town. I therefore resolved to try whether that 
 of London would be more favourable : I had, as I 
 have already observed, been effectually relieved by 
 it when a younger man, and I hoped it might prove 
 useful to me again, although I did not expect it 
 would be so to the same extent as formerly. I was 
 quite sure that the asthmatic attack I encountered in 
 London in 1835, was brought on by the cold and 
 fatigue I endured in my journey thither; and there- 
 fore considered it as forming no ground of argument 
 against my making the proposed experiment. My 
 little aifairs were forthwith arranged, and, aided by 
 the help of some generous friends, I found my way to 
 London. I came, with my family and household 
 goods, in a covered waggon, which I had hired for 
 our sole use. It was, upon the whole, a comfortable 
 mode of travelling, but required that we should be on 
 the road during the night. This was too much for 
 me, especially as I was a good deal worn by the 
 anxiety and fatigue I had undergone in preparing for 
 our journey. On the day after my arrival in town, I 
 was so fiercely run upon by my old enemy, that I 
 apprehended a fatal issue. After the struggle was 
 over, I was for nearly a fortnight in a state of feeble- 
 ness that made it impossible for me to be useful to 
 my family. On getting a little stronger I set about 
 doing what I could ; I succeeded in getting a few 
 orders for clothes, and also in selling a good many 
 copies of my little books. Thus we procured the 
 means of living, although in a very sparing way.
 
 232 MEMOIKS OF A WORKING MAX. 
 
 Still we kept our ground, hoping for better days. 
 In the middle of 1837 I had another violent fit of 
 my old complaint, brought on, as usual, by over- 
 fatigue, in conjunction with a slight cold ; this hap- 
 pily proved to be the last of these very severe at- 
 tacks. The change of air now began to work upon 
 me favourably ; and I seconded its operations by 
 leaving off the use of emetic or nauseating medi- 
 cines, which, while they are useful in checking the 
 violence of an asthmatic paroxysm, are, by their 
 weakening qualities, the means of predisposing the 
 patient for another attack. Thus the great object of 
 my coming to London was attained — as far as I 
 could reasonably look for. I did not, however, re- 
 cover much, if any thing, of my long-lost strength. 
 
 Meanwhile I went on as well as I was able, and 
 was as'usual cheerfully assisted, in all possible ways, 
 bv my faithful and diligent helpmate. In my leisure- 
 hours during this year, and the years 1838 and 1839, 
 •I read the whole of Shakspere's dramatic works, Mr. 
 Sharon Turners ' Sacred History of the Creation,' the 
 * Memoirs of Mr. Samuel Drew,' and Dr. Stilling's 
 ' Theory of Pneumatology," together with some odd 
 volumes of the Edinburgh and Quarterly Reviews. 
 
 In 1840 I again earned a seasonable supply of money 
 by the use of my pen. In this instance I worked for 
 the bookseller to whom I have already alluded. I 
 was well satisfied with every part of that gentleman's 
 conduct towards me. In my houi-s of leisure I read 
 the works of Mr. Charles Lamb, Mr. Holcroffs Me- 
 moirs, and the ' Life of General Washington.' About 
 midsummer I began to write this account of my own
 
 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 233 
 
 ]ife. From that time to the present I have not read 
 much. I have, however, looked through Lord Byron's 
 works, the 'Memoirs of Mr. William Hutton,' and Dr. 
 Stilling's Autobiography ; with some of the works of 
 Sir Walter Scott, Dr. Southey, and Miss Martineau. 
 Meanwhile I have worked diligently at my proper 
 business, at all times when I have not been seriously 
 ill-; but I have often been disabled. When too ill to 
 work, I have been unable to amuse myself with a 
 book, or even a newspaper. At the present time I 
 am much debilitated, while it is pretty certain that I 
 shall gradually become still more feeble. I am, in 
 truth, a prematurely old and worn-out man. All the 
 physical infirmities of advanced age have come upon 
 me before I have got much beyond my fifty-second 
 year. I can do nothing without incurring thereby 
 some additional uneasiness. Thus the pathway of my 
 life is overshadowed by a cloud and strewn with 
 thorns. The health and vigour of the body are gone 
 for ever ; yet, so long as I am not bereft of all mental 
 activity and cheerfulness, 
 
 I argue not 
 
 Against Heaven's hand or will, nor bate a jot 
 Of heart or hope ; but still bear up and steer 
 Right onward." 
 
 ' By the help of memory and fancy I contrive to be- 
 guile many an hour that otherwise would be tedious, 
 or perchance painful. The first brings before me 
 pleasant recollections of bygone times, and enables 
 me again to draw amusement or instruction from what 
 I read in my early years : while the latter either car- 
 ries me into distant scenes, or invests those around
 
 234 MEMOIRS OF A WORKING MAN. 
 
 me with new and sometimes beautiful features. Ex- 
 cept when wholly overborne by bodily pain or in- 
 firmity, I am rarely unemployed, either in the day- 
 time or in the sleepless hours of the night, of which^l 
 have not a few. I aim to be useful, and am occa- 
 sionally encouraged to believe that I am not wholly 
 unsuccessful. Not unfrequently a cheering ray breaks 
 through the clouds that rest upon the future, and 
 shows me some glimpses of a brighter world and a 
 happier state of being. Thus I pursue my course 
 with tolerable equanimity of feeling. There is much 
 attainable good wherewith to compensate the inevit- 
 able evils of my lot. I aim to secure the first, and 
 would fain extract some good from the second. Un- 
 ceasing occupation of the mind upon some given 
 subject, and with a view to the happiness of others, 
 is one of the best means of drawing off the attention 
 from personal sufferings, and of preventing the affec- 
 tions from becoming either chilled or selfish. The 
 work of writing these Memoirs has many a time raised 
 me above the depressing influence of great bodily 
 disorder. I should grieve that my task is done, but 
 that I have already resolved to begin another. 
 
 THE EXD. 
 
 London : Prinled by Willfam Clowes and Soks, SUmford Street.
 
 N£tD Serial mioxl% 
 
 PUBLISHED 
 
 BY CKARXiSS K.N2GKT AND CO., 
 
 LUDGATE STREET, LONDON. 
 
 THE 
 
 PICTORIAL GALLERY OF ARTS. 
 
 To be completed in Twenty-four Monthly Parts, 
 AT ONE SHILLING EACH. 
 
 There is an^ exhibition in London, of great and deserved 
 popularity, whose somewhat learned name denotes its pur- 
 pose — the Polytechnic Institution. It is a repository of 
 many arts. There is another establishment, which has an- 
 other Greekish name of much higher pretensions — the Pan- 
 technicon— hy which we understand nothing more nor less 
 than EVERYTHING relating to Art. This must, indeed, be a 
 wonderful exhibition, if its collections at all realize its title. 
 For what is Art ? It is the practical application of know- 
 ledge to the production of all things whatever that can ad- 
 minister to the uses of man — to the humblest necessities of 
 the body, to the highest gratifications of the mind. The 
 word Art, then, is all-comprehensive. He that makes a 
 shoe, and he that creates a picture, is equally an artist in 
 the strict sense of the term. The elder writers, especially,
 
 NEW SERIAL WORKS 
 
 make no distinctions in the application of the word Art and 
 Arts. Ben Jonson, for example, says, " Arts that respect 
 the mind were ever reputed nobler than those that serre the 
 body." We now attempt to distinguish between an artist, 
 and an artificer, or an artisan. But these distinctions are 
 essentially modem. The skilful practiser of every science 
 is, to use the expressive term of Lord Bacon, an artsman. 
 With this wide range of the term Arts, an exhibition that 
 contains everything relating to Art must be a world in little. 
 To take only the larger groups of the productions of Art, it 
 must contain, in the leading division alone, which we are 
 accustomed to call the Useful Arts, examples of all the 
 various processes and products that have relation to our 
 dailij sustenance, the sources and the modes of cultivation, 
 the preparation into a saleable form, and the arrangements 
 for bringing them within the reach of the consumers ; the 
 materials which we employ for clothing, the rearing and 
 tending of the animals or vegetables which supply them, and 
 the subsequent transformation of them into cloth or leather ; 
 the ingenious and often complicated arrangements whereby 
 our secondary wants (if such wants can be secondary) of 
 Jire, light, and icater, are supplied ; the houses, from the hut 
 to the palace, and all the multifarious processes by which 
 these are rendered homes of comfort to civilized man ; the 
 means which ingenuity and industry have afforded to us for 
 traversing the surface of our globe, whether the wheel-car- 
 riages and the roads on which they run, the mighty loco- 
 motive and the railway on which it works, or the gallant 
 ship and its thousand accessories; the metallic riches which
 
 PUBLISHED BY C. KNIGHT & CO. 
 
 our mines aflord, and the means for bringing their produce 
 into the countless forms so familiar to us ; the earthy and 
 mineral sources from "whence, by industrial aid, we obtain 
 our pottery, our glass, our chemicals, and so many other 
 valuable, kinds of produce ; the combination of science and 
 of constructive art which gives us our lighthouses, our 
 breakwaters, our docks and harbours, and other specimens 
 of civil engineering ; and, not the least, the useful Arts con- 
 tributing to Science and Knowledge, such as printing, and the 
 constructicm of astronomical, optical, and other instruments, 
 clocks, watches, chronometers, and a hundred ingenious de- 
 vices, whose excellence constitutes the highest perfection of 
 mechanical skill. Let us pause for a moment and consider 
 how vast must be the building, how complicated the ar- 
 rangements, how enormous the capital required for the 
 formation of au exhibition, in which the processes and pro- 
 ducts connected with all the useful Arts, and even with such 
 leading divisions of them as we have just enumerated, may 
 be adequately displayed. The Colosseum of Rome would be 
 a baby -house compared with such an edifice. Carry the dis- 
 play into the higher branch of Arts, and the building will 
 exceed all the wonders 
 
 " Of Babel, and the works of Memphian kings." 
 But what no exhibition of real processes and products can 
 accomplish may be attained in a great degree by 
 
 «<A PZCTORZ^Zi GAZ.Z.SZ1.V OF ARTS." 
 
 By the aid of three or four thousand Engravings we can open 
 to the view the entire kingdom of technical skill, in all
 
 NEW SERIAL WORKS 
 
 its more important operations. We can exhibit man, in 
 every region of the earth, labouring with more or less 
 success to surround himself with those necessaries, comforts, 
 and conveniences, which constitute the elements of civiliza- 
 tion. We can show him going forward into the higher 
 range of Arts, and surrounding his domestic and public life 
 with the attributes of Taste, and moving onward and on- 
 ward till he reach the highest development of the principle 
 of Beauty. ^ Here, again, is another kingdom of Art. In- 
 separably allied are these great divisions of knowledge in 
 practice — and when they are separated essentially in men's 
 minds, there can be no permanent success even for what is 
 ignorantly held to belong exclusively to the useful. But, 
 though there be this unity of object, yet for the sake of con- 
 venient arrangement, and for leading onward from the 
 simpler to the higher productions of technical skill, our 
 Pictorial Gallery of Arts will have two divisions. The 
 first will be devoted to what we have been accustomed to 
 call the Useful Auts ; the second to what in the same way 
 we have been accustomed to call the Fine Akts. But the 
 union of all Art will be essentially kept in mind. The 
 vtility of our First Gallery is manifest. But when we 
 open our Second Gallery of the Fine^ Arts, and display 
 our pictorial representations of Architecture, Sculpture, 
 and Painting, Ancient ^and Modern, we know that a 
 familiarity with the beautiful sculptures of antiquity, with 
 the noble paintings of the great modem schools, and with 
 the glorious monuments 'of ^Grecian and middle-age archi- 
 tecture, must have an enduring'effect upon the manufacture
 
 PUBLISHED BY C. KNIGHT & CO. 
 
 of a Worcester tea-cup or a Paisley shawl. Our two Gal- 
 leries will be *' a school of design " of no inconsiderable 
 value by this union of the useful and the ornamental. We 
 cannot call our work a Pantechnicon; but it will be the 
 most complete Pohjtechnicon ever opened for public instruc- 
 ti on and amusement. 
 
 The great purpose which is to be kept in mind, in this 
 and similar works which teach by pictures as well as words, 
 is the expansion of the intellect of all who see and read. 
 What our ' Pictorial Museum ' is to the world of " Ani- 
 3IATED Nature," our 'Pictorial Gallery' purposes to 
 be to the world of " Art." The " Museum " exhibits the 
 great Author of Good displaying His power and wisdom in 
 the creation of the wonderful varieties of life with which 
 the earth is filled, all His creatures accomplishing the pur- 
 poses of their being in harmony with the great scheme of 
 His Providence. The " Gallery" will exhibit the same 
 benevolent Teacher of Man leading him forward from the 
 humblest exercise of his faculties to the most complete de- 
 velopment of his intellectual powers ; and, through the 
 agency of these powers, enabling him " to subdue the earth," 
 and elevate himself in the scale of being by the aid of the 
 accumulated knowledge of society, heaped up for him by the 
 experience of many generations. The one work is a sequel 
 to the other. Each has especial reference to the instruction, 
 of the people, particularly of the young. 
 
 *^* The First Number of the Pictorial Gallery of Arts 
 appeared on the \st February, 184.5.
 
 6 NEW SERIAL WORKS PUBLISHED BY C. KNIGHT & CO. 
 THE CABZIfBT 
 
 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 ■ To he completed in Tiventij Volumes, at One Shilling each 
 seived, and Eighteenpence in cloth. 
 
 The chapters in the ' Pictorial History of England ' en- 
 titled ' Civil and jMilitary History,' supply the only com- 
 plete History of England in our language, written by 
 one Author. iNIr. Mac Farlane, the author of these 
 chapters, has undertaken to abridge them, and to continue 
 them to the present day, so as to produce an original, com- 
 plete, and really full narrative of our country's great story 
 from the earliest times. Small as the price of this work 
 will be, no other work can compete with it in the minuteness 
 of its details and the labour of its research. The Histories 
 of Hume and Smollett, excellent as they are in many re- 
 spects, are only fragments with reference to the periods 
 embraced by each ; and since their days a flood of light has 
 been shed upon English History, which leaves their pages, 
 in spite of their attractions as compositions, dark by com- 
 parison with a History founded upon all we now know. 
 The subsidiary chapters' of the ' Pictorial History of Eng- 
 land,' embracing the History of the National Industry, of 
 Literature and Arts, and of Manners, are not included in 
 • The Cabinet History ;' but portions of these chapters, with 
 additions, will appear in the Series of the ' Weekly 
 Volume,' to which this History of England forms a Sup- 
 plement, and of which Two Volumes have already ap- 
 peared.
 
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