THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES 
 
 GIFT OF 
 FREDERIC THOMAS BLANCHARD
 
 THE 
 
 REMAINS 
 
 ROBERT BLOOMFIELD, 
 
 AUTHOR or THE FARMER'S BOY, 
 RURAL TALES, &C. 
 
 How does the lustre of our father's virtues 
 
 (Through the dark cloud of ills that cover him) 
 
 Break out, and burn with more transcendent brightness ! 
 
 CATO. 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES. 
 VOL. II. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 VRINTED BY THOMAS DAVISOK, WHITEFRIARS, 
 
 FOR THE EXCLUSIVE BENEFIT OF THE FAMILY 
 OF MR. BLOOMFIELD; 
 
 AND PUBLISHED BY 
 
 BALDWIN, CRADOCK, AND JOY. 
 
 * 
 
 1824.
 
 I', o. 
 CONTENTS 
 
 OF 
 
 VOL. ir. 
 
 Page 
 Journal of a Tour down the River 
 
 Wye 1 
 
 Anecdotes and Observations . . 49 
 Reflections . . . .97 
 
 Critical . . . .107 
 
 Bird and Insects' Post-Office . . 123 
 
 I. From the Magpie to the Sparrow . 129 
 
 II. The Sparrow's Reply . . .131 
 
 III. From a young Garden Spider to her 
 .Mother . . . .133 
 
 IV. From a young Nightingale to a Wren 13.% 
 
 V. From an Earwig, deploring the loss of 
 
 all her children . . .139 
 
 VI. From the Wild Duck to the Tame 
 Duck . . . . .142 
 
 VII. The Tame Duck's Reply . . 14.5 
 
 VIII. From the Gander to the Turkey-cock 148 

 
 156 
 160 
 
 162 
 
 165 
 167 
 
 VI CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 
 IX. The Dunghill Cock to the Chaffinch 150 
 
 X. The Blue-bottle Fly to the Grass- 
 hopper ..... 151 
 
 XI. The Glow-worm to the Humble-bee 153 
 
 XII. From the Pigeon to the Partridge 
 
 XIII. The Wood-pigeon to the Owl 
 
 XIV. The Owl in reply to the Wood- 
 pigeon . . ... 
 
 XV. From a Swallow in the South of 
 France to an English Robin 
 
 On hearing the Cuckoo at Midnight, May 
 
 1st, 1822, by Mr. Chas. Bloomfield 
 Appendix. 
 
 Miss Bloomfield to Mr. Weston . .176 
 
 Mr. Weston to Miss Bloomfield . .177 
 
 Miss Weston to Miss Bloomfield . .178 
 
 Miss Bloomfield to Miss Weston . .179 
 
 Miss Weston to Miss Bloomfield . . 181 
 
 Mr. Weston to Miss Bloomfield . . 182 
 
 Miss Bloomfield to Mr. Weston . .185 
 
 Mr. Weston to Miss Bloomfield . .187 
 
 Mr. Weston to Mr. Baldwin . . 189 
 
 Mr. Baldwin to Mr. Weston . .191 
 
 Miss Bloomfield to :\Ir. C. Bloomfield . 192 
 
 Mr. Weston to Mr. G. Bloomfield . .195 
 
 Mr. George Bloomfield to Mr. Weston . 198 
 
 Mr. Weston to Mr. George Bloomfield . 203
 
 CONTENTS. Vll 
 
 Page 
 
 Mr. George Bloomfield to Mr. AVeston . 204 
 
 Mr. Weston to Mr. Inskip . . 205 
 
 Mr. Park to Mr. Weston . . . 206 
 
 Mr. Inskip to Mr. Weston . . 209 
 
 From a Lady to Miss Bloomfield . .210 
 
 Miss Bloomfield in reply . .211 
 To the Reader .... 214
 
 ERRATA. 
 
 Page 113, line 17, insert in blank 100. 
 
 155, line 2, for we'll, read we will. 
 
 174, line 20, for estate, read dwelling.
 
 JOURNAL 
 
 OF A 
 
 TOUR DOWN THE RIVER WYE. 
 
 Uley is situated in rather a singular 
 valley, about seven miles from the Severn. 
 It appears to be surrounded by abrupt and 
 woody hills, except on the north ; where a 
 bold promontory, with an old camp on its 
 brow, called the " Bury,"" lifts its bald 
 head, and whose sides, yielding plenty of 
 stone for building, are extremely steep. 
 Yet they are not hills, but merely the ter- 
 minations of the upland country ^of Glouces- 
 tershire, termed the " Cotswold Levels ;" 
 
 b2
 
 JOURNAL OF A TOUR 
 
 and here they break suddenly into the vale 
 of the Severn: and the valley of Uley is 
 sunk, so as to be approached by a stranger . 
 without the smallest suspicion of there 
 being a valley before him. Cotswold is an 
 immense Gloucester cheese, and Uley Valley 
 is a half-pound notch cut in his side. 
 
 The town of Dursley lies in the opening 
 of the same valley, towards the Severn, 
 and immediately under Stinchcomb Hill, 
 one of the most remarkable of these bluff 
 points, as standing majestically forward into 
 the vale of Severn, and consequently com- 
 manding a very extensive view in all direc- 
 tions, particularly down the stream, over 
 King- wood, Bristol, the mouth of the Wye, 
 the Monmouthshire and Black Mountains, 
 the Forest of Dean, May Hill, Malvern 
 Hills in Worcestershire, and the city of 
 Gloucester, &c. Both Dursley and Uley 
 are employed in the manufacture of broad- 
 cloth, and was I to abuse their steam-en- 
 gines, that fill so delightful a valley with 
 smoke, they would probably begin remind-
 
 DOWN THE WYE. 5 
 
 ing me of my coat, and not unlikely of the 
 time when I was hampered to get one ! 
 
 The village of Owlpen stands under the 
 hanging woods at the top of Uley Vale ; it 
 is very small, and near its curious and 
 obscure church runs the little rill *, with 
 several natural cascades (the first I had ever 
 seen), which, in its further progress, be- 
 comes of such importance to the clothiers. 
 The Curate of Uley preaches here once a 
 fortnight, and he lately ran the hazard of 
 his life by the falling of the sounding-board, 
 which struck him a violent blow on the 
 head. The country immediately round this 
 valley on the high ground, is every where 
 intersected by stone walls ; for stone, a brick 
 thickness, more or less, is the invariable 
 consequence of digging ten inches into the 
 ground ; they are merely piled, without 
 mortar, easily made, and as easily mended : 
 
 * At Dursley is a spring near the course of this 
 stream, \yhicli turns a mill at the distance of fifty 
 yards from its issuing from the ground.
 
 b JOURNAL OF A TOUR 
 
 a strange desolate appearance! In the 
 valley there is no such thing, the verdure is 
 of the most vivid green, and the uneven 
 boundary of woods on the ahnost perpendi- 
 cular sides of the high grounds, form the 
 finest amphitheatre I have ever seen ; but 
 hold ! I am going down the Wye. 
 
 Berkley Castle, distant five miles, lies 
 in sight from the heights; but I cannot 
 reach it at present in any of my expeditions, 
 but have frequently thought of Gray and 
 the 
 
 " Shrieks of an agonizing King." 
 
 From Dursley * to the Severn side at 
 Framelode, the lowlands fall with a slow, 
 gradual descent. The passage-house is 
 finely situated, and the boats are fitted up 
 for the conveying horses and carriages across 
 the stream. The water of the Severn is 
 here but narrow, but owing to the occa- 
 sional tides of uncommon height, the sands 
 
 * Left Dursley at ten in the morning, August 
 17 th.
 
 DOWN THE WYE. 7 
 
 are extensive. The current is rapid. Bar- 
 row Hill is a charming spot, rising in the 
 neck of a horseshoe formed by the Severn, 
 and giving a great command of the country. 
 Here we found plentifully the petrified shell 
 of the Nautilus ; and pebbles, which in the 
 neighbourhood of Uley are not seen, nor 
 the least appearance of chalk or flint. 
 Horses, I observed, appear to be struck 
 with a kind of tremulous submission on 
 finding themselves floating ; one barge car- 
 ried the seven ; but to float each sociable, 
 two barges were lashed side by side, and 
 the carriage placed across upon planks. 
 One boat of course carried all the party ; 
 and we were soon all on terra-firma again, 
 and climbing the high ground, leaving May 
 Hill on our right, passed Flaxley Abbey, 
 the seat of Sir Thomas Crawley. The 
 woods on this estate are chiefly oak, of 
 good gi'owth, and covering the side hills 
 in a manner truly sublime. 
 
 The road leads on by Gun's Mills, and 
 to Mitchel Dean, situated in amostbeauti-
 
 8 JOURNAL OF A TOUR 
 
 ful country, and whose church has a spire 
 of uncommon height; and so slender as to 
 make one tremble for the builder. Yet on 
 entering the place, it keeps no promises 
 made at a distance, but is the oldest town 
 (in appearance) that can be imagined ; sin- 
 gularly unpleasing to the eye. Here I ob- 
 served a stone cross, almost perfect, having 
 an upright stone, on which an image was 
 formerly placed. 
 
 During the ride from hence to Ross, had 
 two or three peeps at the Malvern Hills, 
 in Worcestershire, and the " Skirit*'"' and 
 " Suffar-loaf " in Monmouthshire. 
 
 " Bailey's Side"" is a fine bold eminence 
 on the left, clothed with wood, with a range 
 or stratum of rock breaking through it, and 
 forming a curious contrast with the green, 
 above and below. Penyard Hill, in the 
 neighbourhood of Ross, is nearly of the same 
 description, but is on every side covered 
 with steep woods, so that they assert, that 
 no sparrows were ever known on the farm 
 on its brow; this 1 think possible, as the
 
 DOWN THE WYE. 9 
 
 sparrow is so entirely domestic, and avoids 
 woods in general; and in this case, his flight 
 would be unusually long, and almost per- 
 pendicular. 
 
 Arrived at Ross at seven in the evening. 
 Ross is not a town to my fancy, in appear- 
 ance ; perhaps it is the prevalence of rock, 
 and of rock-stone, in their buildings, that 
 gives it a kind of dreary look, to one un- 
 used to such buildings. The church, with 
 its taper spire, stands on elevated ground, 
 and from it is a view of the river Wye, 
 winding eel-fashion, below ; many of the 
 elms planted by " Kyrle," Pope's " Man 
 of Ross,"" are growing in the churchyard 
 and neighbourhood. The ruins of Wilton 
 Castle are seen across the stream in the 
 opposite meadows; and a man in the 
 churchyard very seriously informed us, 
 that " the said castle was knocked down by 
 cannon in a great rebellion in the time of the 
 Romans /"" 
 
 During my short stay at Ross, I called on
 
 10 JOURNAL OF A TOUR 
 
 an old acquaintance and fellow-tradesman, 
 whom I had not seen for eleven years ; he 
 keeps a shoemaker's shop, opposite the 
 Swan Inn, where we lodged. Left Ross at 
 eight in the morning, 18th. 
 
 Assembled to the number of ten on 
 
 * 
 
 board a pleasure-boat, stored with pro- 
 visions, and bottles, &c. &c. ; the sociables 
 having been ordered forward to meet us 
 at Monmouth and Chepstow "*. But how 
 shall I attempt to describe the natural 
 beauties of this charming river, or the 
 objects seen during the passage? I must 
 not attempt it : a journal is not a vehicle 
 of sufficient importance. My heart is brim- 
 ful of indescribable pleasure when I think 
 on this day. Beauty in all its variety is 
 perhaps its leading feature ; but sublimity 
 is paramount to all considerations at the 
 
 * Spent an hour on shore at Goodrich Castle. 
 Pollett, the boat-man, informed me that he had 
 often bought good cider for sixpence per gallon, 
 and expected it as cheap this season.
 
 DOWN THE WYE. 
 
 11 
 
 passage under Coldwell rocks*, andround to 
 
 *"Hail! Coldwell rocks; frown, frown away; 
 Thrust from your woods your shafts of grey: 
 Fall not, to crush our mortal pride, 
 Or stop the stream on which we glide. 
 Our Lives are short, our joys are few : 
 But, giants, what is time to you ? 
 Ye who erect, in many a mass. 
 Rise from the scarcely dimpled glass. 
 That with distinct and mellow glow 
 Reflects your monstrous forms below ; 
 Or in clear shoals, in breeze or sun, 
 Shakes all your shadows into one ; 
 Boast ye o'er man in proud disdain, 
 A silent, everlasting reign ? 
 Bear ye your heads so high in scorn 
 Of namex that puny man hath borne ? 
 
 Proud rocks ! had Cambria's bards but here 
 Their names engraven, deep and clear. 
 That such as gaily wind along 
 Might greet with shouts those sires of song, 
 And trace the fame that mortals crave 
 To Light and Life beyond the grave ! 
 Then might ye boast your wreaths entwined 
 With trophies of the deathless Mind; 
 Then would your fronts record on high, 
 ' We perish ! — Man can never die !' " 
 
 The Banks of Wye.
 
 12 JOUKNAL OF A TOUR 
 
 New Weir and Great Doward, and thence 
 on to Monmouth. Every body knows that 
 the Wye is exceedingly deep in places, and 
 falls beautifully in others over ledges of 
 rocks, so as to form, not cascades, but 
 rapids, where the water hurries along with 
 a visible descent ; it is winding in its course 
 to a great degree, inconceivably pellucid ; 
 and in general, the hills rise majestically 
 steep from its shores. 
 
 We dined on board the boat, on the right 
 bank of the stream, near the spring called 
 Coldwell ; and here is a new-erected monu- 
 ment in memory of a youth drowned here, in 
 sight of his parents. The inscription is long 
 and excellent *. Permission for its erection 
 was granted by Mr. Vaughan of Monmouth, 
 the owner of the land; and though, for 
 several reasons, I could individually wish 
 the monument not there, I think it does 
 honour to him to grant it. And though, as 
 "the Lord of Courtfield," I have condemned 
 
 * See Banks of Wye, page 22.
 
 DOWN THE WYE. 13 
 
 his taste, I know nothing disrespectful of his 
 heart. 
 
 Coldwell rocks, on the Gloucester side of 
 the stream, are particularly grand and im- 
 pressive ; and the circumstance of having 
 one of them baptized with mi/ name, by the 
 company, was agreeable to me. 
 
 At the neck of a long horseshoe formed 
 by this river, the rocky eminence called 
 " Symmons' Yat" obtrudes itself to a vast 
 height, between the two points of the ap- 
 proach of the river. Instead of going round 
 with the boat, it is usual for the party to 
 ascend the rocks (where a ridge terminates 
 in a high bank of perpendicular rock, not 
 more than twenty yards wide), and to join 
 the boat again at New Wier. An old 
 woman was our guide, who led us over 
 this isthmus, until our bones ached. — 
 Three of us outstripped our companions ; 
 and finding they did not overtake us, I 
 again left my two companions and climbed 
 the pathless way, with intent to reach the 
 summit, which I had missed. On nearly
 
 14 JOURNAL OF A TOUR 
 
 approaching the absolute perpendicular 
 part of the cliff, I heard voices at the top, 
 and hallooed and soon found that the hind- 
 most part of the company, had climbed the 
 place before me. The old woman descended 
 to become my pilot, and the view paid 
 amply for the labour. On the down-stream 
 side of this bank of rock lies the place called 
 the " New Wier," or a kind of artificial 
 means of keeping up the river, and accom- 
 modated by a lock. Here we embarked 
 again, and looked back on the scene with 
 increased interest : for here, projecting from 
 the usual run of this rocky hill, stands, almost 
 detached, an upright tower of stone, very 
 aptly termed the Cathedral, or the " Min- 
 ster Rock," — I forget which. It is square 
 and grotesque, and vast in its proportions. 
 
 It was one of those charming days that 
 gratify us with their serenity and peace: 
 the clarionet sounded softly ; yet the echo 
 was perhaps the more enchanting. To de- 
 scribe all the beauties of the passage was 
 not my intention, was I ever so capable.
 
 DOWN THE WYE. 15 
 
 There was one circumstance, however, which 
 was to me curious. I had heard when at 
 Ross, that the fishermen on this river, still 
 used the identical kind of boat, which Caesar 
 has described in his Commentaries, as being 
 used in his time by the natives of Britain ; 
 and I hoped for an opportunity of being 
 convinced of its truth. When drawing near 
 to Monmouth, after passing Great Doward, 
 and drinking at Martin's well, we came 
 among some fishermen, who were disturbing 
 the water with long poles to dislodge the 
 salmon. To accomplish this, they occa- 
 sionally used an infant kind of boat, which 
 they carry with them in their large one ; it 
 holds but one person; is, as far as I can 
 guess, not more than four feet in length ; 
 goes with the broadest end foremost; is 
 worked by a paddle ; has no keel or rudder ; 
 and is formed of wickers only, and covered 
 by an oil-skin outside to repel the water. 
 The man paddles himself on shore, jumps 
 out, and takes his boat at his back with 
 great ease. It had a strange and. even
 
 16 JOURNAL OF A TOUR 
 
 laughable appearance ; it was impossible to 
 keep the mind at home ; it would compare 
 infancy with maturity, a " Corricle"* with 
 the " Victory," and a Wye fisherman to 
 Nelson. 
 
 After an uninterrupted day of rational 
 enjoyment, we reached Monmouth, at half- 
 past seven in the evening; eleven hours 
 and a half on the water. 
 
 Monmouth (as the birthplace of Henry 
 V.) may be considered as a high curiosity 
 to the antiquarian; but as we were obliged, 
 on account of meeting the tide in our way 
 to Chepstow, to start at six the following 
 morning, no great attention could be paid 
 to the town. The place of his birth, the 
 castle, is nearly all demolished. They have 
 a noble statue of him over the market- 
 house. 
 
 Left Monmouth at six in the morning, 
 19th. — The sun strove to overlook the 
 steeps of wood that enclosed us in, skirting 
 
 * Or Corracal.
 
 DOWN THE WYE. 17 
 
 our misty and delightfully indistinct passage 
 down the river. The day rose ; the mists 
 dispersed, and we met the tide just before 
 we reached the village of Landauga, where 
 the cottages rise one over the other, in a 
 manner particularly pleasing, against the 
 morning sun. The reach of the river, that 
 commands the village of Landauga, exem- 
 plified in a striking manner that peculiar 
 appearance, which we had noticed often on 
 the water this morning, and the preceding 
 day, viz. where the water was bounded by 
 high ground, and at the same time seem- 
 ingly terminated by as high or higher, it 
 appeared to decline from the eye, and to 
 lose its natural horizontal level, by running 
 extremely down hill into the opposing emi- 
 nence. We know that a river has in reality 
 its natural declension; but this is a very 
 strong and decided optical deception, and 
 it pleased me not a little. 
 
 Through the long reach below Ethels- 
 wier, the water became turbid and sluggish, 
 until the tide turned, and then it ran furi-
 
 1.8 JOURNAL OF A TOUR 
 
 ously down, and soon brought us in sight 
 of the ruins of Tintern Abbey ; a place so 
 often described by pen and by pencil, that 
 I will not attempt it ; only remarking that 
 it must have been a place of extreme 
 beauty, and is now an object that strikes the 
 eye, and fixes on the soul something like 
 the shackles of superstition. Yet I would 
 hope that reverence for an old place of 
 devotion, is something deserving a better 
 name. The door was opened suddenly; 
 and the effect instantaneously overpowered 
 us all, in different ways ; it is grandeur in a 
 place where it is least expected ; a memorial 
 (of wealth and population) now unseen in its 
 neighbourhood ; the burial-place of Strong- 
 bow, the conqueror of Ireland, &c. Most 
 of the party sat down and took sketches of 
 the interior ; but I found it above my reach, 
 and so gave vent to my feelings by singing 
 for their amusement and my own the 104th 
 Psalm : and though no " fretted vault" re- 
 mains to harmonize the sound, it soothed 
 me into that state of mind which is most to
 
 DOWN THE WYE. 19 
 
 be desired. We tarried here until the last 
 minute of our allowance of time ; the tide 
 was ebbing ; and if suffered to ebb too far, 
 some of the rapids further down, would not 
 have boasted sufficient depth to have floated 
 us to Chepstow. We took a hearty, but 
 hasty breakfast; and I rather think the 
 Welsh girl who waited upon us was not 
 sorry to get rid of her company. We had 
 been more than three hours on the water ; 
 and we shall remember the Tintern break- 
 fast with pleasure, if any part of our com- 
 pany go there, or meet each other again. 
 Though in this latter part of our voyage, 
 the water was not so lovely an object in 
 itself, yet the grandeur of the scenery in- 
 creased upon us every moment — the rocks 
 called " Winlass-leap," and " Lover' s-leap," 
 and the more exalted eminence of Wind- 
 cliff, in itself worth going a hundred miles 
 to see — these, with the detached rocks, 
 like buttresses, called the Twelve Apostles, 
 and an infinity of minor beauties, made 
 themselves admired and respected on either 
 
 c2
 
 20 JOURNAL OF A TOUR 
 
 side, until we reached Chepstow castle and 
 bridge ; where we quitted the Wye with a 
 regret, which those will best appreciate who 
 have witnessed its power to enchant, and 
 seen the objects in its course. 
 
 Arrived at Chepstow about one. — The 
 castle of Chepstow stands on the bank of the 
 Wye, immediately on the brink of a per- 
 pendicular rock of vast height. It appears to 
 have been a fortress of uncommon strength. 
 Here Martin the Regicide, as he is called, 
 was long confined by Charles the Second, 
 and one of the towers bears his name. Here 
 each of the party found abundance of exer- 
 cise for the mind and for the pencil ; but 
 having passed WindcliiF in our way down 
 the river, we now visited it by land, through 
 the grounds of — Wells, esq. of Persfield, 
 pursuing a wooded walk for about two 
 miles, immediately on the edge of the rocks 
 which overhang the Wye, At nearly one 
 end of this natural terrace, is tJie precipice 
 called Lover's Leap, down which the eye 
 descends with a fearful complacency, as a
 
 DOWN THE WYE. ^l 
 
 thick wood covers the bottom ground. They 
 told us that its height was about sixty yards ; 
 I should guess it more. An iron railing 
 protects the walk at top, and the descent is 
 as steep as a wall. WindclifF, as seen by 
 the map, is something further up the stream, 
 and is magnificently grand. The fantastic 
 turns of the AVye, with its amphitheatre of 
 woods, seemed diminished ; but, if possible, 
 increased in beauty. The Severn's mouth, 
 the Holmes in its channel, the shipping at 
 King-road, and all the country from below 
 Bristol upwards, until Gloucester was lost 
 in mist, is completely under the eye. It is 
 here called the second view in England, and 
 by Lord North was preferred to " Mount 
 Edgecomb." The accompanying view of 
 Windcliff is taken from a part of Chepstow 
 Castle ; and it will give an additional idea of 
 its magnitude, if you observe that you do 
 not see the river at its foot, but look over 
 very high ground, round which the water 
 comes from the right, towards the centre of 
 the drawing*. If you look on the map from 
 
 * Referring to a drawing taken on the spot.
 
 22 JOURNAL OF A TOUR 
 
 Chepstow Castle to WindcliiF, the whole will 
 be understood*. This drawing is done by 
 R. B. Cooper, esq. a principal in our party, 
 who uses his pencil with great freedom and 
 expedition : I prize it on his and every 
 account. 
 
 We spent a delightful and social evening 
 at the Beaufort Arms, Chepstow, and re- 
 tired to rest, but not till we had walked to 
 the castle by moonlight, where we found 
 an owl hooting lustily from the battlements 
 of Marten's Tower : we all stood to listen 
 and admire, and certainly no imagination 
 can form an object, and a scene, half so im- 
 pressive. 
 
 Thursday, the 20th, at Chepstow. — The 
 whole of this morning was spent in a thorough 
 examination of the ruined castle, but the 
 time was too short; many good drawings 
 were made, and I attempted one amongst 
 the rest. The joists of the floors in Mar- 
 tent's Tower are still existing, and are of 
 
 * From Chepstow Castle to WindclifF the river 
 crosses the line of sight four times.
 
 DOWN THE WYE. 23 
 
 solid oak, about a foot sqviare. It appears 
 unaccountable to me, how even by the 
 lapse of ages, nutriment enough can be 
 found for shrubs of so large a growth, as 
 are flourishing between the outer and inner 
 ramparts of these towers, and on the top of 
 the wall of course. This gangway, once the 
 place of the defenders of the fortress and its 
 centinels, is now an absolute wild : a mix- 
 ture of bramble, hazel, ash, beech, and fruit 
 trees, from twenty to thirty feet high at 
 least. The whole area of the chapel, which 
 I was much taken with (though the man in 
 attendance called it the banqueting-room), 
 is covered with thriving underwood : the 
 look-out from its large windows must have 
 been almost dreadful, as that wall stands on, 
 and is, in truth, a continuation of a per- 
 pendicular cliff, much higher than the build- 
 ing itself. The bridge at Chepstow is very 
 narrow (belonging to the two counties), and 
 the flooring is composed of oak planks only, 
 on which both hoofs and wheels batter along 
 in a singular manner : the planks are not
 
 24 JOURNAL OF A TOUR 
 
 fastened otherwise tlian at each end by an 
 upright peg, on which, in case of high tides, 
 they have room to hft up ten or twelve 
 inches without losing their places. 
 
 Thursday, left Chepstow and the Wye, 
 for Ragland and Abergavenny, and pro- 
 ceeded on to Ragland, where there is another 
 immense castle, in some respects in better 
 preservation than that we had left ; but it has 
 not so commanding a situation, and appears 
 more like a baronial residence, than an im- 
 pregnable fortress. Here is the largest 
 growth of ivy I have ever seen. The whole 
 compass of the w^alls is nearly complete ; 
 but I cannot possibly enter into particulars 
 in a flying journal like this. We spent two 
 hours amongst the ruins ; and in a kind of 
 cellaring, the arched way leading to which 
 has partly fallen in, a countrywoman, who 
 offered her services and information, in- 
 formed us, that, when a light is carried in, it 
 is soon extinguished, and that they say it is 
 because of damps ; but for her part she was 
 inclined to believe, with many of her neigh- 
 
 %
 
 DOWN THE WYE. 25 
 
 hours, that the devil was there. In this 
 building a gigantic stem of ivy has pushed 
 awry the fine fluted work of the kitchen 
 window, and seems to set iron and stone at 
 defiance. The largest elm I have ever seen 
 growing, is found in the yard or grounds of 
 the castle. 
 
 We drove on for Abergavenny, where 
 we arrived about nine at night, having the 
 " Suffar-loaf Mountain," " The Skired- 
 Vawr," and Blorench, catching the rays of 
 the setting sun, as we came towards them. 
 It was a noble sight. 
 
 Arrived at Abergavenny, nine at night, 
 Friday, 21st. — I am now writing in my 
 bed-room at Abergavenny, before breakfast, 
 with the Sugar-loaf Mountain in view of my 
 window, and before night we shall be on his 
 brow. 
 
 I have now discovered that the hill I saw 
 from my window is not the Sugar-loaf, but 
 one of much inferior size. With ten in com- 
 pany, and three servants, it required some 
 little order and contrivance to get us all up
 
 26 JOURNAL OF A TOUR 
 
 SO rugged a way, and to such a distance. 
 We found that as sociables and common 
 carriages could not pass the narrow, stony, 
 and precipitate lanes which lead up to the 
 high ground, the best way would be to 
 hire a carriage on purpose, that would carry 
 half our party. We learned that a man in 
 the neighbourhood, was in the habit of carry- 
 ing strangers to the top of the Sugar-loaf, 
 and the Skired, and Blorench, &c. and that 
 his conveyance was a common open cart, 
 fitted up with occasional seats for the pur- 
 pose, and drawn by three little scrambling 
 ponies. The driver and owner is a red- 
 faced little fellow named Powel, who lives 
 on his own small property, and is, perhaps, 
 one of those we might call yeomen, or what 
 in the north are termed statesmen. In this 
 cart were stowed six of us, the rest rode 
 single horses, chiefly fitted with side-saddles, 
 for the accommodation of the ladies, who 
 occasionally relieved each other. The cart 
 was abundantly stored with provisions, wine, 
 bottled ale, and fruit, and every thing that
 
 DOWN THE WYE. 27 
 
 could render the expedition agreeable and 
 joyous. In this style, the whole cavalcade 
 left the Angel Inn at Abergany, and excited 
 a great deal of mirth. The roads up the 
 mountain are such as nothing could have 
 passed, but a cart ; brambles, honeysuckles, 
 and hazelnuts, rapped us on the head as we 
 jolted up the courses of the winter''s torrents, 
 for every lane is a water-course. Blorench 
 seemed to rise in greater sublimity, as we 
 ascended the lower hills, or base of the Sugar- 
 loaf. Skired Vawr was on our right, but 
 the day was hazy, and the prospect not so 
 extensive as it sometimes is. We reached 
 the top of the woody part of this high 
 ground, and then had a fairer view of the 
 peak or summit of " Pen y Vale," which I 
 understand to mean the " head of the vale," 
 and which somebody has since baptized by 
 the more melting name of the " Sugar- 
 loaf."" I here took to my feet, and steered 
 directly for the summit, while most of the 
 party went slowly round with the cart ; but 
 young Parnell Cooper, rode his father's horse.
 
 28 JOURNAL OF A TOUR 
 
 amidst the rocks and fragments, almost to 
 the summit, where the poor animal trembled 
 and neighed for his companions. I gained 
 the brow by regular and temperate exertion, 
 for I had learned a lesson from Symmons' 
 Yat, gathering whimburys or winberries in 
 my way ; and resting on the grotesque and 
 immense fragments of rocks, which appear 
 to have rolled down from the top; which is 
 composed almost of entire rock, and is not 
 a sharp, but a long narrow ridge, of about 
 one hundred yards wide*. It was not 
 possible to drive the cart to the top; so 
 while all the party climbed to the eminence, 
 the driver took a circuit ; and the servants 
 relieved each other in the necessary duty of 
 holding the horses, and enjoyed the scene 
 by turns. We all sat on the soft green, or 
 rather brown heath or ling; and from a 
 spring, just below the rocky summit, had 
 some excellent water. From this sublime 
 
 * Cox's History of Monmouthshire calls it two 
 hundred wide, by a quarter of a mile long ; I think, 
 from recollection, that it is not so much.
 
 DOWN THE WYE. 29 
 
 eminence, the eye ranges over others still 
 higher, and the blue mists hanging over the 
 horizon, gave to the long line of intersecting 
 mountains, the appearance of a sea of hills. 
 We had left beauty behind, here was no- 
 thing but sublimity ; and I think that mirth 
 would be the last feehng likely to be excited 
 in such a situation. The air was remark- 
 ably fresh and invigorating ; some few drops 
 of rain fell, which were most likely not 
 known in the country below. We left the 
 summit with regret. At a considerable way 
 from the more rocky pai't of the hill, in our 
 descent, a cloth was spread on the moss 
 beside a rivulet, the horses tied to a thorn, 
 and the cold repast, enjoyed with a mutual 
 thankfulness, that is seldom found in a hall 
 amidst the clattering of knives and plates. 
 Again we mounted the AVelsh sociable, and 
 descended by another road, though, as to 
 declivity, not a whit better than the other. 
 We at length reached the turnpike road to 
 Abergany, and returned to the inn after an
 
 30 JOURNAL OF A TOUR 
 
 excursion, which having been long promised 
 and expected, could hardly have been dis- 
 pensed with, and which, from the universal 
 gratification it gave, appears, now it is over, 
 to have been a principal ingredient in our 
 pleasures. 
 
 At Abergavenny, Saturday 22d. — This 
 morning we strolled round the remains of 
 Abergany Castle. It is very much gone 
 to decay : but from the eminence where once 
 stood the keep, the hill called Blorench, on 
 the other side the river Usk, and the Pen- 
 y-Vale hills, which we had ascended the 
 preceding day, presented themselves in a 
 new and magnificent point of view. The 
 morning was inclined to be stormy, and the 
 point of the Sugar-loaf, and great part of 
 his sides, could not be seen. The clouds 
 hung round him, and rolled in dark volumes 
 about his stony girdle. We waited until the 
 sun acquired more power, and saw his head 
 emerge with all the majesty of a monarch. 
 
 Left Abergavenny at eleven. — This day's
 
 DOWN THE WYE. 31 
 
 journey was to take us to Brecon, by way 
 of Crickhowel ; at the latter place refreshed 
 by the way. Here likewise are seen some 
 remains of a castle, and the ruins of an old 
 mansion, once belonging to the Earls of 
 Pembroke. The people partake strongly 
 of the Welsh character, and many of them 
 cannot speak English. Three miles further 
 on, turned out of the high road to see the 
 remains of Tre-tower Castle, which stands 
 rather singularly in a deep valley. Here 
 an upright woman, a hundred years old, 
 asked charity, and said her name was " Jane 
 Edwards;" an old shoe-maker answered in 
 Welsh a great many inquiries, through an 
 interpreter, his son, who could speak En- 
 glish, but roughly. From hence to Brecon 
 was a most enchanting ride. Crickhowel 
 mountain, and several others, were covered 
 . with clouds, that travelled along on their 
 summits — and these clouds illuminated by 
 the declining sun ! And nearer to Brecon, 
 the grotesque and abrupt cluster of points.
 
 32 JOURNAL OF A TOUR 
 
 called the Vann, were still more enveloped, 
 in clouds of the most dark and terrific hue. 
 Reached the Golden Lion at Brecon, 
 at nine, 2'2d. Mr. Morgan, the Recorder 
 of Brecon, being related to Mr. C. of our 
 party, we supped there, and next day, 
 Sunday, 23, attended service at church; 
 and heard some excellent voices in the organ 
 loft, full of simple pathos and feeling. The 
 service is performed in Welsh, at three in 
 the afternoon, for the accommodation of 
 those who do not speak English ; and 
 another kind of accommodation is afforded 
 the young men of the country, by the re- 
 cruiting Serjeants ; they expose their bills of 
 invitation, with their offer of eleven guineas 
 bounty, in English and in Welsh, side by 
 side. Who would lose a soldier by neglect- 
 ing to let him know that you want him.f* 
 Between the church, and dinner hour, Mr. 
 Lloyd Baker and self, on horseback, visited 
 an old British intrenchment, so deemed, I 
 believe, by the late Mr. King, the antiqua-
 
 DOWN THE WYE. 33 
 
 rian. It consists of a triple bank, round 
 the brow of a hill. And not more than 
 three miles from Brecon, and on the same 
 side of the town, at a farm now termed the 
 Gaer, are the remains of a Roman wall, still 
 so perfect as not to have wholly lost the 
 outer, or facing stones. This appears to 
 have been a Roman station of some import- 
 ance. Mr. Price, a very civil and intelli- 
 gent farmer on the spot, gave us every in- 
 formation in his power, and seemed to enjoy 
 it. A paved Roman road crosses his 
 orchard, covered only by grass. A small 
 lamp, found on the premises, is in the pos- 
 session of Mrs. Price ; and several very per- 
 fect Roman bricks, are turned up by the 
 plough, all stamped while the clay was 
 wet, as the work of the second legion of 
 Augustus. 
 
 In the wild bushy lane, leading down to 
 the Gaer, stands a stone (perhaps five feet 
 high, and three wide, by six inches thick,) 
 called Mam Morinion, or the Maiden's 
 Stone. It has had three lines of inscrip-
 
 34 JOURNAL OF A TOUR 
 
 tion, now so effaced, that Mr. B. could only 
 make out a fe w words ; but we learned that 
 the whole is deciphered, and is in the pos- 
 session of a gentleman of Brecon. In the 
 front are two figures, once raised from the 
 surface, but now battered away nearly to a 
 flat. That on the right, appears to have 
 been a Roman soldier, with the dress like 
 a Highland philibeg, or petticoat ; the other 
 figure, I think, was a female, but the posi- 
 tion of their arms, is not to be made out ; 
 and though the figures in my sketch appear 
 so very imperfect, I doubt they are too 
 perfect rather, to be strictly just to the 
 original. 
 
 A spot close in the neighbourhood of 
 Brecon, called the Priory Groves, the pro- 
 perty of Lord Camden, forms a beautiful 
 walk for the town's people ; a stream makes 
 its way, over a number of rocky obstruc- 
 tions, in a deep valley below, keeping a con- 
 tinual murmur, though almost entirely hid 
 by the trees. 
 
 Left Brecon Monday morning, 24th. —
 
 DOWN THE WYE. 35 
 
 This day's journey was to take us to Here- 
 ford; we could not attempt to climb the 
 Van Mountains in tlie neighbourhood, 
 esteemed the highest in South \^ ales, and 
 which, during our Sunday's ride and this 
 morning's, were continually capped by 
 clouds *. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Morgan, in their own 
 cliariot, accompanied us as far as Hay, in 
 the way to which town, stand the remains 
 of Bronyliss Castle, one tower of which is 
 nearly perfect, except the floors. The walls 
 of this tower are about eleven feet thick. The 
 farmer on the spot, makes use of it for a 
 hay-loft ; and he has destroyed great part 
 of the other walls and ruins, to have the 
 materials, to fence his yard, and build a sta- 
 ble. This formed a pleasing subject for 
 the pencil, and my conipanions enjoyed it, 
 during v.'hich, I was thinking of the river 
 
 * Price, the farmer, said he could almost to a 
 certainty foretel rain, by the appearance of the 
 clouds on the Van. 
 
 D 2
 
 36 JOURNAL OF A TOUR 
 
 Wye, and filling my pockets with nuts. 
 The Severn, and the Wye, both take their 
 rise from the mountain of Plynlimmon. 
 Hay, where we dined, stands on the Wye, 
 and we felt a kind of unaccountable affec- 
 tion for the stream, which had, in its lower 
 progress, given us so much pleasure. Here 
 are likewise fine remains of a castle ; and in 
 the churchyard we observed a new grave, 
 strewed with flowers; it is a Welsh cus- 
 tom, and they are often not strewn, but 
 planted on the grave ; and carefully weeded 
 by the surviving friends of the deceased. 
 In this case we only observed one sprig of 
 sweet-brier growing ; it was a beautiful, sad, 
 and impressive sight, which will make me 
 detest the unhallowed mob of bones in Bun- 
 hill fields more than I ever did before : let 
 me be buried any where but in a crowd. 
 
 Here we parted with our Brecon friends, 
 and proceeded onwards, passing, on the 
 steep bank of the Wye, the poor remains of 
 Clifford castle, said to be the birthplace of 
 Fair Rosamond. Crossed the Wye a few
 
 DOWN THE WYE. 37 
 
 miles further on, and then had it on our 
 right, during an uninterrupted ride to Here- 
 ford. 
 
 At Hereford, Monday night. 
 
 During: the whole ride the harvest was in 
 all its glory. Orchards abound on each 
 side of the road, and overhang the highway 
 as plentifully as elms do in Suffolk ; and the 
 greatest crop is hanging on the trees that 
 has been known for many years. 
 
 Hereford is a clean lively city : we lodged 
 at the New Inn ; and in the same house was 
 residing the young Roscius, William Betty. 
 He played Achmet on the evening of our 
 arrival ; but I declined a squeeze, on so hot 
 an evening. I saw him in the inn yard, in 
 the morning ; a well-made youth of about 
 five feet six ; a good, but surely not by any 
 means an expressive, countenance. I beg 
 his pardon if I am wrong. He mounted 
 his horse with a kind of tol-de-rol gaiety, 
 and galloped out of the yard. 
 
 The tower of the cathedral has a strange 
 squaddy appearance ; being exceedingly
 
 38 JOURNAL OF A TOUK 
 
 large, with turrets too small, and the height 
 
 not according well with the projDortion of 
 
 the building*. The interior is elegant, and 
 
 contains many very old monuments; but 
 
 amongst the oddest particulars of this 
 
 church, is the circumstance, of its having 
 
 two of the immense arches, under the tower, 
 
 in the interior of the church, supported by 
 
 an upright pillar, dividing at the top, so 
 
 as to destroy the beauty of the arch, and 
 
 make a singular appearance. These pillars 
 
 are comparatively modern ; and surely there 
 
 must have been some other cause, not now 
 
 apparent, to induce any architect to attempt 
 
 so paradoxical a fancy, as to support an 
 
 arch from beneath. 
 
 Left Hereford at eleven on Tuesday. 
 
 This day's journey was to take us from 
 Hereford to the Malvern Hills ; and Mr. 
 
 * Since writing the above, 1 have found the fol- 
 lowing memorandum in the " Tablet of Memory :" 
 Hereford Cathedral nearly destroyed by the fall of 
 its tower, September the 10th, 1786.
 
 DOWN THE WYE. 89 
 
 L. B. having to call on his friend, Mr. Hop- 
 ton, of Canfrone, part of the company drove 
 on for Ledbury, where we proposed meeting 
 again. Mr. liopton has a house of no 
 common sort. It is very large, and fitted 
 up in the first style of elegance, not fan- 
 tastically modern. Here we dined ; and in 
 the true spirit of old English hospitality, 
 the venerable old 'squire asked if we liked 
 good beer, and ordered the servant to bring 
 a bottle of seventy-seven. I found that 
 this beer was three years old, when it was, 
 at the above date, put into bottles, and was 
 consequently brewed when I was eight years 
 (Ad. 
 
 We joined our party at Ledbury, and 
 proceeded on for Malvern Hills. Evening 
 came on apace, and darkness overtook us as 
 we crossed the liills, and turned to the left 
 towards Malvern Wells. The road is but 
 narrow, and runs on the side of the hills, 
 giving us a starlight view of the descent 
 below us, and of the eminence, not to say 
 mountain, above. We reached the Well-
 
 40 JOURNAL OF A TOUR 
 
 house; but they were, with all their ap- 
 pendages, full of company ; no beds could 
 be had. Drove down to the town of Great 
 Malvern, and received the same answer 
 there : not even a sitting-room could be had 
 for refreshment, except^n offer, which was 
 eventually declined, and which we learned 
 was made by Sir Robert Staples, of the use 
 of his rooms for an hour. It was eight 
 miles further to Worcester, and now very 
 dark, and the horses tired. Every effort 
 was made to procure accommodations, which 
 at last was accomplished, by procuring beds 
 at private houses, &c. This caused more 
 mirth than disappointment ; for every one 
 set out at first with a determination to be 
 pleased. I lodged at a shop which was the 
 post-office; and being debarred from the 
 accommodating articles that wait upon my 
 beard, I learned that I could be shaved by 
 a man in the house, and so it proved : for 
 the post-office man was the shaver, though 
 I took him from weighing tea and cheese. 
 He was a surly old fellow, a little on one
 
 DOWN THE WYE. 41 
 
 side — and so was his house ; for the flooring 
 of my bedroom was more out of level than 
 I ever slept on before : it was solid oak, and 
 I dare say perfectly sound : though a large 
 fracture (and there being no plaster below 
 it) showed me the ostlers and maids at early 
 breakfast below me. One of the ostlers 
 snuffled a good deal in his speech; the 
 other was a wit ; and the maids (if they 
 were such) were a tolerable match for them. 
 This morning, having no breakfast-room, 
 had a table set in a garden ; and the sun 
 shining bright upon the craggy hills just 
 above us, made it a beautiful and singular 
 scene. We took two saddle-horses for the 
 ladies, and all together began to ascend the 
 highest peak of old Malvern. It was la- 
 borious work. This majestic view has been 
 many hundred times described, better than 
 I can do it here ; I will however remark, 
 that the Malvern Hills are a range, that 
 rise in comparatively a flat country, and 
 therefore command an extraordinary view. 
 Amongst the objects around, those which we
 
 42 JOURNAL OF A TOUR 
 
 deliberately observed, were, on the Welsh 
 side, and turning round to the right, the 
 Sugar-loaf, the Skired, the Black Moun- 
 tains, the city of Hereford, Clay Hills, and 
 the Wrekin in Shropshire. Windbury 
 Hills, the Lickey, Hagley Park, Worces- 
 ter city (eight miles), Malvern Abbey just 
 below, the whole valley of Stratford on 
 Avon (very distant), Bredon Hill, the long 
 heights of Cotswold, Upton Bridge, down 
 towards die Severn's mouth, and almost to 
 the ocean ! A ditch along the ridge of the 
 hills, marks the boundary between the coun- 
 ties of Gloucester and Hereford. I think, 
 if I lived on the spot, I should climb the 
 hills about twice a week, for six months, and 
 then be able to give a tolerable account of 
 the scene — delightful Malvern ! I have 
 said above that we all climbed the hill ; but 
 Mrs. Lloyd Baker, though she had reached 
 the summit of Pen-y-Vale in a state, and 
 fai* advanced, that " all women would wish 
 to be who love their lords," was, I doubt, 
 deterred from this attempt ; for I am sure
 
 DOWN THE WYE. 43 
 
 her spirit would never fail, if her reason ap- 
 proved. The old abbey church of Mal- 
 vern, reminds one of a man in a deep de- 
 cUne, and yet retaining about him all 
 that can attest his former strength and 
 vigour. The woman who exhibited what 
 was there to be seen, was much better in- 
 formed than many in a similar situation ; 
 and gave the most unaffected detail I have 
 ever heard. The whole fabric is uncom- 
 monly damp, and discoloured, and unless 
 something is done to arrest the scythe of 
 Time, the roof will soon be on the floor. 
 
 Left Malvern for Tewkesbury, Wednes- 
 day, one o'clock. — Leaving Malvern Hills, 
 no other striking scenes presented them- 
 selves, except works of art, which though I 
 affect not to disregard, I am not so much 
 taken with, or able or willing to describe. 
 From the summit of Malvern, we had ob- 
 served Upton Bridge in the valley, and now 
 passed it in the road to Tewkesbury. On 
 entering the latter place, I was uncommonly 
 sui-prised and delighted, mth the noble ap-
 
 44 JOURNxYL OF A TOUR 
 
 pearance of the streets ; a width, and length, 
 and clearness, and great respectability that 
 I had not been at all apprised of. Bury 
 St. Edmunds I had always esteemed a fine 
 clean town, but the street by which we en- 
 tered Tewkesbury is at least tvvice, and at 
 places thrice as wide as Abbey-gate-street, 
 and four times its length, — a more respect- 
 able street than Holborn. The Stratford 
 Avon, over which we passed, falls into the 
 Severn at Tewkesbury. The Abbey Church 
 has of late years been beautified * and re- 
 paired by Mr. Wyatt ; and as to pulpit and 
 seats, is the neatest that can be imagined. 
 Prince Edward, son of Henry the Sixth, 
 
 * In the church books of Tewkesbury, which have 
 been preserved for a long time back, are the following 
 entries — "A. D. 1378, paid for the ' Players Geers' 
 six sheep-skins for Ciirist's garments." And in an 
 inventory recorded in the same book, 1585, are 
 these words — " and order eight heads of hair for the 
 Apostles, and ten beards, and a face or visor, for the 
 Dkvil." 
 
 Monthly Mirror, 1807.
 
 DOWN THE WYE. 45 
 
 said to be murdered by Richard, after the 
 battle of Tewkesbury, hes here in the centre 
 of the church, with a small brass inscrip- 
 tion. This evening was spent with pecu- 
 liar pleasure, which we had been promised 
 from our first setting out. Mr. R. B. 
 Cooper had with him his manuscript poem 
 (unfinished), in which he describes his neigh- 
 bour, Stinchcomb Hill. He read it with very 
 good effect, and it spoke most amply for its 
 subject and its author. I hope some day 
 to see it finished. Here likewise took place 
 a general exhibition and comparison of notes, 
 and sketches, and much good will, with al- 
 lowances for the bad, and enjoyment of the 
 good. 
 
 Left Tewkesbury Thursday morning, for 
 Gloucester, and home. 
 
 It was agreed to proceed this last day's 
 journey by way of Cheltenham, and thence 
 to Gloucester to dinner. Cheltenham ap- 
 pears to be an increasing town, full of dash- 
 ing shops, and full of what is often called 
 life, i. e. high life. I am not qualified to
 
 46 JOURNAL OF A TOUR 
 
 judge of liigh life, and may be laughed at 
 for my strictures; but as I never feel happy 
 in Bond-street, I see no reason that I should 
 here. The visitors seem distressed for some- 
 thing to do, and I know of no calamity 
 equal to it. I proposed calling on Doctor 
 Jenner, who joined our party in the walks, 
 and sent a Cheltenham gift for my wife, 
 which shall remain in my family with his 
 former tokens between us. 
 
 Spent about three hours at Cheltenham, 
 and drove on for Gloucester, where we dined 
 at three, at the King's Head. The Cathe- 
 dral is beauty itself. — Westminster is black 
 and venerable ; — Canterbury is gigantic, and 
 mixed in its beauties ; but this, and parti- 
 cularly the tower, is a noble and lovely ob- 
 ject. We look at it as we would at a beau- 
 tiful woman, without cessation, and without 
 tiring. Gloucester Cathedral is the bury- 
 ing-place of Robert of Normandy, and of 
 Edward the Second, murdered at Berkeley. 
 The city is fine, and is a busy scene, but I 
 was more struck with Tevt^kesbury. From
 
 DOWN THE WYE. 47 
 
 Gloucester we proceeded for home, which 
 we reached about nine at night ; 
 
 Nor stopt till where we first got up 
 We did again get down. 
 
 Dursley and Uley, as I have said already, 
 are singularly beautiful as to situation. 
 Yet such is the force of a set of new ideas, 
 that the most cheerful individuals of the 
 party now thought their beauties tame, be- 
 cause they were compared w ith what we had 
 seen. I have imbibed the highest degree of 
 affection for all the individuals of the party, 
 from the most natural cause in the world — 
 because they all seemed glad to give me 
 pleasure, and I shall forget them all, — 
 when mv grave is strewn ^vith flowers. 
 
 R. Bloomfield. 
 
 N. B. Before I left the country, visited Berkeley 
 Castle, and gained much comparative information, 
 from here observing a castle, still habitable and 
 perfect, with all the characteristics of a castle which 
 1 had so repeatedly seen in a state of dilapidation. 
 The room where Edward was murdered has a hor-
 
 48 JOURNAL OF A TOUR 
 
 rid kind of appearance. I returned to London by 
 way of Oxford, and spent a day there, for fear I 
 should never have such another chance. But to 
 tell here of Oxford sights, great and highly interest- 
 ing as they are, will never do. I leave the task to 
 hands more methodical and more able, and return 
 with delight, to my humble home. 
 
 Robert Bloomjield.
 
 ANECDOTES 
 
 AND 
 
 OBSERVATIONS. 
 
 VOL. II.
 
 ANECDOTES AND OBSERVATIONS. 
 
 March 12th, 1801. — About sixteen years 
 ago, a relation (who I think had a daughter) 
 of Daniel de Foe, the author of Crusoe, 
 lived in Broker Row, Moorficlds. He 
 was an old man, and kept a small shoe- 
 maker's shop, and had done many years; 
 but I am not quite sure that the relation- 
 ship was on Ms side; it might be on his wife's. 
 
 The notices commonly put upon walls, for 
 bill-stickers to read and tremble, are gene- 
 rally worded with a threat of their being 
 prosecuted, &;c. I noticed a board affixed 
 to the Tabernacle of G. Whitfield, worded 
 thus — " Please to take notice, if any Bills 
 
 E 2
 
 52 ANECDOTES AND OBSERVATIONS. 
 
 are put against this building, they will im- 
 mediately be taken down."" 
 
 Providence has a very difficult task to 
 please the creature Man ; the latter neglects 
 his proper avocation, Agriculture, to go in 
 search of black eyes and bloody noses, com- 
 monly called military glory, and then blames 
 his Maker for not sending him a proper 
 supply of food. — Piihlican's Nexvspaper. 
 
 I think a small kind of carriage to hold 
 one person might be made to go on the ice 
 with great velocity, if the whole strength of 
 the rider could be exerted for that purpose. 
 By the help of a sharp spike, or a pole with 
 three or more spikes, to strike or lay hold 
 on the ice, a great weight might be put in 
 motion. Perhaps some such childish con- 
 trivance as this may be in use, though un- 
 known to me. I should like to try it, and 
 convince myself of its practicability. As to 
 the material point, guiding the carriage,
 
 ANECDOTES AND OBSERVATIONS. 53 
 
 I can conceive no method ; I like to see 
 skaiting, and I should like to see this. Such 
 a light thing on wheels might be tried on 
 land ; but 1 doubt the labour would be too 
 much. This nonsense makes me think (as 
 indeed I have always done) Avhat a pleasure 
 it must be, to be able to draw. 
 
 I never see a fine prospect but I wish to 
 bring it away with me. The house and 
 grounds at Wakefield, I have in the store- 
 house of memory ; but I should like to have 
 them on paper. I should extremely like to 
 have a view of Honington Green, as it was 
 till the Inclosing Act took place. Wake- 
 field I may (though unlikely) see again ; 
 but my native Green, with its daisies, I 
 never shall. To take such a small bit of 
 ground and divide it into three, was hardly 
 worth while. What man, with a sack of 
 wheat on his back, would stoop for one 
 
 jjrain .'' 
 
 Inclosing Acts ! I do not much like the 
 rage for them. They cut down the solemn,
 
 54 ANECDOTES AND OBSERVATIONS. 
 
 the venerable tree, and sometimes plant 
 another, — not always; like a mercenary 
 soldier, who kills more than he begets. 
 Resolved — As shepherds are thus going 
 out of fashion, and smiths, &c., coming in : 
 could I not make the old steeple lament the 
 destruction of shades as old as itself, and 
 make a shepherd reply ? &c. &c. But it 
 grows near " witching time of night,"" and 
 I perceive I am writing nonsense. If I had 
 had a critic here at my elbow, he would 
 have found it out long ago. 
 
 Remarks on the Garden Spider. 
 
 August 14, 1801. — This morning ob- 
 served a garden spider, who had one of his 
 own species in durance, holding him sus- 
 pended, but without much appearance of a 
 web. The prisoner was alive, but a mere 
 skeleton. After a while he was suffered to 
 fall, or the wind forced him from his cap- 
 tivity; but, in falling, he unfortunately 
 struck against a half-formed web, the archi-
 
 ANECDOTES AND OBSERVATIONS. 55 
 
 tect of which I had just been watching, and 
 observed, that all the lines leading from the 
 centre to the extremities were finished ; and 
 he was busy, going a continued circle, and 
 joining each with a fresh web, which he 
 drew from his posteriors, at regular strokes, 
 by an extension of his longest legs behind. 
 The beforementioned prisoner fell against 
 his web, and he immediately left work to 
 secure him, being still alive, and having 
 legs not at all diminished, though his body 
 was wasted. His new conqueror seized him, 
 and, rolling him up in a strong web, dragged 
 him to the centre, and there left him secure, 
 and returned to his work, which he soon 
 completed. I had observed him about a 
 quarter of an hour previous to this adven- 
 ture, and remarked that he caught a num- 
 ber of very small flies, which abounded on 
 every weed, after much rain in the night ; 
 and I was not a little surprised that these 
 minute creatures did not stop his progress, 
 but were instantly devoured ; not as I ex- 
 pected, by sucking their bodies dry: he
 
 56 ANECDOTES AND OBSERVATIONS. 
 
 took; them up very orderly, and very di- 
 stinctly, and devoured them, wings and all, 
 without leaving the smallest appearance of 
 a fragment. He had eaten seven of these 
 flies before the spider fell in his way. 
 
 August 20, 1801. — A spider of this 
 kind, of an enormous size, has now a web, 
 of about a foot in diameter, hung with spoils, 
 against a wooden fence in the yard. I have 
 repeatedly seen them working their webs, 
 but never could see them begin. The 
 insect, here mentioned, has attached his 
 work on one side to the fence, from which 
 it projects obliquely, and is suspended to a 
 branch of a vine, at the distance of five feet 
 from the circle of the web. As the suspend- 
 ing lines are very strong, and run exactly 
 horizontally, without any intermediate sup- 
 port, it is wonderful to me, to think how 
 they could have been carried so far. A 
 double five foot line, which leaves the fence 
 in this direction, must have been a cui'ious 
 work for him.
 
 ANECDOTES AND OBSERVATIONS, 57 
 
 In the outline here given, the upper 
 sketch is looking down on the work; the 
 under one is looking horizontally. 
 
 The body of the spider being nearly 
 half an inch in length, he has more than 
 twenty-four times his length in one foot, 
 and, consequently, one hundred and twenty 
 times in his suspending lines. Now, taking 
 the standard of a man at five feet six inches, 
 one hundred and twenty times his length, 
 will be six hundred and sixty feet, or two 
 hundred and twenty yards; about three 
 times the height of the Monument. If 
 we were set to tie the tops of the steeples 
 of London together with a cord, without 
 scaffolding, should not we be puzzled to 
 contrive it.? We should go to school to
 
 58 ANECDOTES AND OBSERVATIONS. 
 
 spiders, and ants, and bees ; but of all these 
 — the spider does his work alone. 
 
 September 9, 1801. — This morning, 
 extricated a bee from a web, but without 
 any signs of life. Another web contained 
 a bee larger than the common honey bee ; 
 he appeared completely enveloped in a 
 winding-sheet of the web, of a very large 
 spider, whose premises he had unfortunately 
 trespassed upon. Thus it is evident that 
 this tiger of an insect devours creatures 
 larger than itself. If the means by which 
 he is enabled to do so were common to the 
 beasts of the forest, how dreadful would be 
 a net spun by the lion or the tiger, from 
 which the horse and his rider could not dis- 
 entangle themselves, no more than a strong 
 bee can from this pest of the garden. 
 
 September 14th, 1801. — Having ex- 
 pressed surprise at the work of a spider, 
 I can now trace with certainty his opera- 
 tions and his power, so as to satisfy my-
 
 ANECDOTES AND OBSERVATIONS. 59 
 
 self entirely. Often wondering how came 
 all the long; webs that tickle our noses and 
 glitter in the sun, reaching from one tree 
 to another, and often floating loose in the 
 air; I, a few days past, broke down the 
 web of a garden spider, which was sus- 
 pended from a building to a fence across 
 a pathway of about five feet, and much the 
 same height from the ground. When his 
 suspending lines were broke, himself and 
 his web fell flat against the building. An 
 hour or two after, I observed him in motion, 
 and \vished to know how he would contrive 
 a communication with the fence as before. 
 
 He seemed, for a while, as if taking a 
 general survey of the distance and bearings 
 of the objects around ; and then letting him- 
 self down from a spout to the distance of 
 about six inches, hung suspended, not in 
 their usual position, head downwards, but 
 with one side downwards, and all his legs 
 greatly extended. In this posture I found 
 that, without the help of his legs, he pos- 
 sessed a power of ejecting a web to what
 
 60 ANECDOTES AND OBSERVATIONS. 
 
 length he pleased, and with surprising swift- 
 ness. It had exactly the appearance of 
 smoke issuing through a pin hole ; only, in 
 this case, the stream instead of dissipating, 
 became a lengthening line, that floated 
 with the action of the wind, and visibly ex- 
 tended from its source, as fast, or faster 
 than the nimblest black beetle can run. He 
 emitted thus, about seven or eight feet of 
 web, and then ascended to the spout, and 
 waited the event. The line was carried by 
 the wind cornerways, and lodged against 
 the building, and consequently became use- 
 less. He did the same again, with the same 
 want of success, and repeated his work a 
 fourth time, when I caught hold of his float- 
 ing line, at about four feet long, and when 
 extended to five, I drew it over the leaf of 
 a bean, and it became fast; but he, still 
 lengthening it, the line was very slack. 
 After a few minutes he applied himself to 
 drawing the rope tight, which, when done, 
 he travelled upon it to the opposite side, and 
 made my fastening secure ; then back again.
 
 ANECDOTES AND OBSERVATIONS. 61 
 
 emitting a new web as he went, and joining 
 it to the other to strengthen it, till it became 
 visibly improved. 
 
 Next, starting from one end, he pro- 
 ceeded, without splicing a new strengthener, 
 to the centre of the horizontal line, exactly 
 to the centre^ and there lowered himself^ 
 down to "the ground, and drew this perpen- 
 dicular line very tight, or else it was his 
 weight that did it. The ground beneath 
 was a gravel path ; he there fastened this 
 line to the gravel, at E (see sketch), by press- 
 ing it down with a motion peculiar to them- 
 selves, and then ascended again : at which 
 time he had formed an obtuse angle, by 
 drawing down the horizontal hne; then, 
 forwarding his work, he drew the line D, 
 to which the lines from the centre were to 
 be fastened. To foi-m the line D, he tra- 
 versed the lines B C, bearing the line D in 
 his claw detached, and, fastening it at the 
 upper end of B, proceeded to draw the lines 
 from A to C and B in the same manner. 
 From this outline, the formation of the lines 
 
 t
 
 62 ANECDOTES AND OBSERVATIONS. 
 
 from the centre to the extremities appeared 
 easy. 
 
 I have sometimes broken down a part of 
 their work, and have observed that they 
 will carefully gather up the fragments of 
 the web, and either leave it in white knots, 
 or appear entirely to swallow it. 
 
 A small spider had fastened a line of
 
 ANECDOTES AND OBSERVATIONS. 63 
 
 his work, to the outermost lines of a web, 
 belonging to a very large one; the latter 
 hastened to the confines of his pi-emises, and 
 cut asunder the stranger's holdfast, some- 
 thing like cutting a boat adrift. I find it a 
 common opinion, that the spider, when he 
 catches a fly, destroys him by poison; it 
 may be so ; — but I see, by close observa- 
 tion, that his strong dependence is placed 
 in folding him rapidly up in a web, which 
 he draws from himself abundantly for the 
 purpose. 
 
 I wonder whether I shall hereafter 
 think these moments mispent in watching 
 a spider ? — At present I think their nature 
 and properties strange, and not yet entirely 
 known, even to naturalists ; their whole pro- 
 ceedings amazingly curious ; their degree of 
 instinctive contrivance, and their exactness 
 of figure in their squares and angles, and 
 visible use of every line, truly astonishing. 
 
 The spider, while descending by his
 
 64' ANECDOTES AND OBSERVATIONS. 
 
 web, was baited by the flies, in the same man- 
 ner as we see a hawk baited by the smaller 
 birds *. 
 
 October 4th, J 802. — Found last week 
 a letter in the Gentleman's Magazine for 
 1759 (I think), by a Mr. Masser, ' on the 
 Gossimer,"* wherein he has been correct in 
 his account of the spider having an ejecting 
 power, as to the formation of his web. I 
 found this by observation last summer, and 
 was pleased at the discovery, for to me it 
 was such. But his account of flying spiders 
 
 * It is now known, that the spider sometimes ex- 
 hausts the material from which his web is formed ; 
 in which case, he is in imminent danger of starva- 
 tion. I once saw a spider reduced to this extremity, 
 running wildly about on a sunny board. Several 
 large flies, who seemed to enjoy his distress, tormented 
 him, by settling within an inch of his nose; and 
 when the spider made a rush to seize one, he would 
 take a short flight, and settle down again at about 
 the same distance. This game lasted nearly two 
 hours ; when the spider's strength and patience ap- 
 pearing to be quite worn out, he retired to a hole. — 
 Ed.
 
 ANECDOTES AND OBSERVATIONS. 6-5 
 
 is not clear and comprehensive. Does he 
 mean spiders with wings ? or, spiders with a 
 power of imlimited elevation, by an eject- 
 ment of web ? 
 
 Spiders again. 
 
 Proved, by observing a spider with a 
 small microscope, that when I had broken 
 down a web in the garden, he carefully 
 gathered up the fragments, and moistening 
 the accumulated web in its approach to his 
 mouth, swallowed it all again. 
 
 General Observations. 
 
 In addition to the foregoing extracts, I 
 now Avish to say a word or two in farther 
 explanation. The nests of this kind of 
 spider are generally attached fast to wood- 
 work, in a dry situation, in size not exceed- 
 ing an hazel-nut, appearing like a knot of 
 raw silk, of an exceeding close texture. I 
 put one of these into an unstoj)ped bottle, 
 and, forgetting to watch it minutely, I at 
 length found it as follows : From the mouth 
 of the bottle to a shelf above, was about 
 
 VOL. II. F
 
 66 ANECDOTES AND OBSERVATIONS, 
 
 eighteen inches; and I found the eggs 
 hatched, and not less than several hundreds 
 of connecting lines of communication be-, 
 tween the bottle and the shelf, covered in 
 every direction with the infant swarm, en- 
 tirely yellow. From this I think it evident, 
 that the power of ejecting the web is exer- 
 cised at an early stage of life. I think too, 
 from every consideration, that their preying 
 on each other is a matter beyond a doubt. 
 
 I have somewhere read, that the garden 
 spider uniformly makes his web of great 
 or small dimensions, according to the ap- 
 proaching degree of sunshine or rain, and 
 thus, with the utmost precision, foretels the 
 weather. This I have not yet proved, but am 
 much inclined to give credit to the assertion. 
 
 Custom not only imposes on us modes 
 of dress, and sometimes of conduct, which 
 our reason does not approve, but prevents 
 us from adopting many a useful practice or 
 improvement. I have read somewhere, of
 
 ANECDOTES AND OBSERVATIONS. 67 
 
 the northern nations, wearing a contrivance 
 of wood, to screen the sight, from the re- 
 flection of sunbeams from the snow, which, 
 unobstructed, is injurious to the sight. 
 Custom there, does not forbid them to pre- 
 serve their eyes ; but here, where in the 
 summer months, the sunbeams are reflected 
 from the gravel of the roads, and from the 
 pavement of the streets, in almost an in- 
 tolerable manner ; — where the evil of too 
 much light is evident in every one's face, 
 and every eye is half-closed to exclude it ; — 
 where thousands, in their walks of pleasure, 
 would gladly gaze on the distant objects 
 before them — the hills, the villages, and the 
 woods, if the quivering of the sun's rays, 
 and his flood of light would permit them ; 
 where thousands (myself amongst them) 
 come home with the anguish and languor of 
 a headach, and with eye-balls parched and 
 painful, from having been forced to meet a 
 light ten times stronger than they could 
 bear ; if a person, I say, was to put a crape 
 over his eyes, or any contrivance to remedy 
 
 f2
 
 68 ANECDOTES AND OBSERVATIONS. 
 
 the evil, the novelty of his appearance 
 would be a real trouble to him, by subject- 
 ing him to the scoffs and insults of fools : 
 and yet the pleasure of walking with ease 
 to one's self, is a thing which no one will 
 contemn, when he consults reason only. 
 The prevalence of too much light is to me 
 a serious evil, and I am convinced is hurtful 
 to the sight. Our mothers tell us not to 
 gaze on the sun, and not to read or work 
 by a bad light, thus warning us that ex- 
 tremes are to be avoided; and oxxr feelings 
 tell us to double our clothes in winter, 
 and to strip in summer; to eat our broth 
 when it is cool enough, and not scald our 
 throats ; and many other good things would 
 our feelings tell us, if they were properly 
 attended to. 
 
 What a wide difference may be seen be- 
 tween the manner of bringing up children, 
 as to the chance they have of seeing in their 
 youth, what we call the beauties of Nature.
 
 ANECDOTES AND OBSERVATIONS. 69 
 
 If I had been placed in my infancy in the 
 situation of one of the boys who worked in 
 the same garret with me, — had I possessed 
 the power of writing poetry to please the 
 world, — I must have wanted materials 
 at least, to have written what I have. Poor 
 Jem Eailey, was, with four others, left 
 motherless; his father turned them over 
 to the workhouse, situated somewhere in 
 Southwark. When Jem became old enough, 
 he was sent out as errand-boy, to any one 
 who might want such a boy, for which he 
 got nothing but food. He lived with a 
 Doctor, and carried nostrums from morning 
 till night : his master giving him a livery- 
 coat, to raise his own consequence with those 
 he attended. (This was his best coat when 
 he came as an apprentice to the boot- trade.) 
 Another of his masters kept a fishing-tackle 
 sliop, in Crooked-lane, and of course part of 
 his trade was to have maggots or gentles to 
 sell to those, who had patience enough to 
 angle in the New River. To obtain this 
 bait, a quantity of bullocks' lights Avas ex- 
 posed to the flics on the leads, of the house ;
 
 70 ANECDOTES AND OBSERVATIONS. 
 
 and often have I heard the poor boy ex- 
 press the abhorrence he felt, when called 
 from his dinner to serve a ha^p'orth of 
 gentles, which was done by shaking the 
 lights, and picking up the fruit. 
 
 Lord Kenyon's integrity, as stated in the 
 accounts of trials in the newspapers, (for I 
 never saw him), gives me the highest idea 
 of the character of a Judge, which I have 
 ever found. His office, arms him with power : 
 but the exertion of power is marked with 
 the peculiarity of the possessor. The de- 
 termined and pithy reproofs he gives to 
 notorious guilt, are the most shining exam- 
 ples of honesty to be found in the language. 
 
 At the time the Albion Mills were burned, 
 I never saw the newspapers ; and led so 
 recluse a life, that three days elapsed before 
 I heard of it, though I lived in Chiswell- 
 street ; a proof that there may be now living 
 in Paris, persons, who saw little or nothing 
 of the great events which have taken place
 
 ANECDOTES AXD OBSERVATIONS. 71 
 
 there. Again — when five hundred houses 
 were burning at RatclifFe, some years ago, 
 I did not know it till the next night ! A 
 raan'^s mind may be travelling half over the 
 globe, and yet know little of what is doing 
 next door. 
 
 " Full many a gem of purest ray serene, 
 
 *' The dark unfathomed caves of ocean bear." 
 
 The sovereign contempt with which too 
 many of the wealthy, and (I fear also) of 
 the learned, look upon what are termed 
 " the dregs of the people," has often raised 
 an equal contempt on my side, for that 
 wealth, which engenders such thoughts of 
 the immense distance, which those " dregs 
 are from the surface." The distance is not 
 so great as the vain man flatters himself it 
 is ; I have known mechanics, who in ge- 
 neral information, and in powers of intellect, 
 have stood decidedly before thousands of 
 their own rank. Is it not decidedly so 
 among gentlemen — one clever fellow to a 
 great many dull ones ^ I have heard more
 
 72 ANECDOTES AND OBSERVATIONS. 
 
 sense and truth in a tap-room, than I have 
 sometimes heard in better company ; and 
 there is nothing more striking to me, (and I 
 have been placed so as to observe it,) than 
 that total ignorance of the manner of living 
 among the poor — that superficial and 
 vague idea of who and what they are — of 
 what they talk, and of what they think ! 
 Nothing to me has appeared more strange 
 or more disgusting, than finding amongst 
 those ranks, raised above the mechanic and 
 labourer, such a mean opinion of the poor ! 
 Gentlemen, 'tis true, seldom enter alleys, or 
 see the domestic habits of those nests of 
 human wretchedness : and they think, per- 
 haps, that poverty must of necessity be ac- 
 companied with ignorance ; but I find that a 
 man who works for his living, and reads 
 
 whatever he can catch ! 
 
 His whole soul is bent to that point ; and if 
 nature has given him a talent for observa- 
 tion, no situation can make him contempti- 
 ble. If a great and noble mind is granted 
 by nature to only one in a thousand — does 
 she order that that one, shall not be born in
 
 ANECDOTES AND OBSERVATIONS. 73 
 
 an alley ? That he must be rich, or great ? 
 Does nature, when she makes an orator, pro- 
 vide him a seat in the House of Commons ? 
 — A poor man with a strong mind will make 
 himself respected in his circle, and make 
 useful remarks on every occurrence. A rich 
 man, with great native powers, will do the 
 same. A poor man, with a moderate un- 
 derstanding, will remain at the bottom of 
 his class. A rich man of inferior powers 
 will do the same, in spite of all that can be 
 done for him. 
 
 " Worth makes the man, and want of it the 
 fellow." 
 
 A short time ago, the publicans' paper, 
 after stating that the price of corn and flour 
 did not fall in consequence of an abundant 
 harvest, added — " Let our avaricious ty- 
 rants hlusli ! Let them dread the venge- 
 ance of parliament ! The guardians of 
 the people !"" By placing certain words in 
 italics, I suppose it to be wholly ironical ; 
 if not, the joke is better still: for what
 
 74 ANECDOTES AND OBSERVATIONS. 
 
 dreadful punishment will a man inflict on 
 himself ? 
 
 In their paper of to-day they finish a para- 
 graph of the same sort thus : — " How long 
 these plans of extortion are to continue, 
 Heaven only knows — for to Heaven only 
 can the people look for relief." 
 
 Now by this last sentence, one would 
 think they had found out, that the dealers 
 in corn were not likely to blush, or to trem- 
 ble ; and that many of them were among 
 the guardians of the people. 
 
 This moment heard the heart-cheering, 
 glorious news of peace ! 
 
 Halt ! ye legions, sheath your steel. 
 Blood grows precious ! shed no more — 
 Cease your toils. 
 
 Walker"'s Gazetteer describes Stone-henge, 
 and says that one of the stones measures, 
 according to Doctor Hales, twenty-five feet 
 long, seven feet broad, three and a half feet
 
 ANECDOTES AND OBSERVATIONS. 75 
 
 thick, and says, that no mechanical power 
 now known, could raise such a weight. 
 Guthrie's Grammar describes the Pagoda of 
 Chillambrune, near Porto-Nova, on the 
 Ck)romandal Coast ; its entrance beneath a 
 pyramid a hundred and twenty-two feet 
 high, built with large stones above forty feet 
 long, and more than five feet square. 
 
 And of the Pagoda of Seringham, the 
 outer wall of which makes a circumference 
 of four miles ; its southern gates are sup- 
 ported by pillars composed of single stones, 
 thirty-three feet long, and nearly five in 
 diameter. This wall encloses six others at 
 equal distances, twenty-five feet high, and 
 four thick ! * 
 
 Dined lately in company with Mr. Peel 
 and his brother, who have brought the 
 skeleton of the Mammoth from America : 
 both clever fellows, and masters of their 
 study. 
 
 * Orme's History of Hindostaiij vol. i. page 178.
 
 76 ANECDOTES AND OBSERVATIONS. 
 
 Dimensions of the Skeleton now exhibiting in Pall 
 Mall, November 25, 1802. 
 
 Ft. In. 
 
 Height over the shoulders 11 
 
 Length from the chin to the rump... 15 
 
 Width of the hips and body 5 
 
 Length of the under jaw 2 10 
 
 Weight of the same, 63ilbs. 
 
 Width of the head 3 2 
 
 Length of the thigh bone 3 7 
 
 Ditto of the large bone of the fore leg 2 10 
 
 Largest circumference of the same 3 2| 
 
 Length of shoulder blade 3 1 
 
 Longest ribj without cartilage 4 7 
 
 Length of the tusks, defences, or 
 
 horns 10 7 
 
 Circumference of one tooth or grinder 1 6i 
 Weight of the same, 4lb. 10 oz. 
 The whole weighs about 1000 lbs. 
 
 This skeleton was dug up almost entire, 
 but the tusks were rotten, so that artificial 
 tusks (made in imitation of a real one, which 
 now lies in the room in a decayed state), 
 are put to this skeleton ; but the use of 
 these tusks appears doubtful ; and perhaps 
 were not placed as they are here. His teeth,
 
 ANECDOTES AND OBSERVATIONS. 77 
 
 prove most clearly, that he did not feed on 
 vegetable food, and yet his swallow appears 
 much straitened, for so immense a crea- 
 ture. 
 
 This skeleton was found lying at the bot- 
 tom of a bog, several feet from the surface. 
 Parts of the bones of this kind of animal 
 have been found on the banks of the Ohio, 
 and in various other parts of America, to the 
 number, it is supposed, of fifty ; so that 
 the animal, though now an extinct race, has 
 been numerous; and as remains of shell-fish 
 are found with the bones, it is conjectured 
 that an inundation destroyed the race, and 
 left us to wonder at what must have lived, 
 though so much larger than any animal now 
 known to exist — not excepting the elephant. 
 Bones of this creature are found vastly much 
 larger than the skeleton. A thigh bone 
 now lies in the room, some inches longer 
 than those in the skeleton, and a tooth of 
 seven pounds weight is now at Philadelphia.
 
 78 ANECDOTES AND OBSERVATIONS. 
 
 Miss Johnson, with whom I dined at the 
 White Hart Inn, Fetter-lane, was personally 
 acquainted with Burns ; who, breakfasting 
 with her, drank a large tumbler of beer pre- 
 vious to taking either eatables or tea, say- 
 ing that he had been up till three in the 
 morning, and had drank too much wine. 
 On Miss J.'s remonstrating with him as to 
 the injury to which he exposed his health, 
 he replied, " Madam, they would not thank 
 me for my company, if I did not drink with 
 them. / must give them a slice of my ccrn- 
 stitution.'''' I wish Burns had given them 
 thinner slices of his constitution, that it 
 might have lasted longer; I then might 
 possibly have had the pleasure of seeing 
 him. He died but two months after I be- 
 gan composing The Farmer's Boy ! though 
 at that time, and long after, his death and 
 history were unknown to me. 
 
 Amongst the glory of England (her un- 
 paralleled Charitable Institutions), one more,
 
 ANECDOTES AND OBSERVATIONS. 79 
 
 I think, might be added. A fund to pur- 
 chase beds for new married couples, under 
 proper regulations, and with the accustomed 
 recommendations as to character, and de- 
 serts. This heavy expense (to the poor) is 
 a serious affair, and if not accomplished be- 
 fore the fruits of marriage smile them in the 
 face, it then (when most wanted) becomes 
 more difficult still. I have said of Walter 
 and Jane — 
 
 Give love and honest industry their way, 
 Clear but the sun-rise of life's little day. 
 
 Lumping of ages together, as is some- 
 times done in the newspapers, I cannot 
 reUsh. It means nothing. I remember 
 seeing six or seven men of great age men- 
 tioned, with the common observation of 
 their united ages making so many hundred 
 years. Amongst them were John Wesley, 
 Macklin, and the late Lord Mansfield. They 
 were all old men: but the wonder was not
 
 80 ANECDOTES AND OBSERVATIONS. 
 
 increased by the adding into one total, the 
 age of many contemporaries, any more than 
 if we were to say— In the parish of Hackney 
 hve seven men, whose perpendicular height 
 when placed on each others' heads, amounts 
 to the surprising total of forty-three feet ! 
 
 I have seen it regretted, that Dr. Young 
 burnt his loose papers before his death. 
 
 I have seen it regretted, that Dr. Johnson 
 did not burn his loose papers before his 
 death ! ! ! 
 
 At the time of the illuminations for Nel- 
 son's victory, I thought if I had had the 
 means to have sported a transparency, I 
 might have quibbled thus : — 
 
 Duncan, Jervis, and Howe, 
 
 What say you all now — 
 (For by you were our triumphs begun :). 
 
 In the midst of alarms. 
 
 You fought well with both arms— 
 But Nelson has beat them with one !
 
 ANECDOTES AND OBSERVATIONS. 81 
 
 I remember, too, beginning a song On that 
 subject : — 
 
 Old Nile lately cried from his seven-raouth'd bed, 
 " Can such echoes proceed from a cloud ? 
 
 For ages I 've roU'd, and my banks overspread. 
 But never heard thunder so loud," &c. 
 
 The great Oak in Euston Park. — My- 
 self, my wife, and my daughter Hannah, 
 (then nine years and a half old), embraced 
 his rough rind at armVlength, touching 
 our fingers; and could thus encompass it 
 all but about half a yard. By observation 
 afterwards, I found the girth of this tree to 
 be fifteen feet, in May, 1801. 
 
 " Children, like tender oziers, take the bow ; 
 And as they first are fashion'd, always grow." 
 
 So says Mr. Gay. I was fifteen years 
 old, when I first thought the last line untrue. 
 I have more than doubled that age ; and I 
 think so still. It will not do for a maxim. 
 
 VOL. II. G
 
 82 ANECDOTES AND OBSERVATIONS. 
 
 Joseph Condit, jun. of Bloomfield, New 
 Jersey, has obtained a patent from the 
 United States, securing to him the benefit of 
 a discovery which he has made in manufac- 
 turing paper from the shavings of tanned 
 leather, commonly called curriers"' shavings. 
 
 One half-acre of land, opposite the Prince 
 of Wales's at Brighton, sold for 3500 guineas. 
 My old shopmate, Charles Jones, states, 
 that between twenty and thirty years ago, 
 the Duke of Athol, speaking on the subject 
 of the land-tax in the House of Peers, of- 
 fered to sell a thousand acres of land, risht 
 and title for ever, for a thousand half- 
 crowns ! 
 
 Charles Jones's brother lent a shopmate 
 his great coat, on a particular occasion. On 
 his return home, this shoemaker declared 
 that he never walked the streets so uncom- 
 fortably in his life. Wherever he went, the 
 beggars v/ere after him at every corner;
 
 ANECDOTES AND OBSERVATIONS. 83 
 
 and he concluded by protesting that he 
 would not wear a good coat upon any ac- 
 count whatever. He most likely kept his 
 word ; for he was a terrible drunkard. 
 
 Could not the great features, of the hi- 
 story of the world, be represented by some- 
 thing like a firework ? Suppose a number 
 of Jixcd lights to represent the rise and fall 
 of empires. Carthage might brighten to its 
 zenith ; and then Rome might arise in all its 
 glories, and decline likewise. The Ottoman 
 power, and the caliphs of Arabia ; the blazing 
 of the butchers of the East; the Tartar 
 princes, and all the principal transactions 
 recorded in history. If this could be done 
 on a sufficient scale, and the ground-work 
 be a map of the world, and the lights be 
 
 made governable, as in Walker's orrery 
 
 But this is dreaming ! — dreaming ! 
 
 It is very natural that the working poor 
 should, in their endeavour to finish their 
 
 g2
 
 84 ANECDOTES AND OBSERVATIONS. 
 
 work, and to add a few shillings to their 
 day's or week's reckoning, sometimes trans- 
 gress against the time allowed by masters 
 for the taking in, and paying for their work ; 
 and it is just as natural for them, when re- 
 proved, to attempt some excuse. Mr. Cham- 
 berlain, who employed many hands (my 
 brother and self amongst them), used to 
 have an answer ready for one common ex- 
 cuse. — The journeymen or their wives 
 would plead that " they had made all pos- 
 sible haste to shop." " That's saying no- 
 thing," says Chamberlain ; " you should 
 have set out sooner."^ 
 
 This answer might be applied in several 
 other cases with equal justice: — 
 
 To the 7C0)idling, who has lately become 
 such, and who grumbles that he has saved 
 no more ; 
 
 To the sailor, who loiters away a fair 
 wind, and loses his market ; 
 
 And, perhaps, to the man zvho marries at 
 forty, and gets a young family — " You 
 should have set out sooner.""
 
 ANECDOTES AND OBSERVATIONS. 85 
 
 Dr. Walker, who is just returned from 
 Egypt, Avhere he spread the vaccine inocula- 
 tion in the army and navy, relates the follow- 
 ing anecdote of the author of" The Rights 
 of Man," which Paine himself had given 
 in a company at Paris, where Dr. Walker 
 was present. When a boy, he (Paine) went, 
 in company with his sister — I think it was — 
 to Fakenham wood, in search of nuts ; and 
 being by themselves, they wandered out of 
 their knowledge, and knew not the way 
 out again. In this dilemma, Tom, proposed 
 that his sister should stand at a certain 
 spot, while he went a short distance to climb 
 some tree, to see his way out of the wood. 
 He climbed the tree, and missing his hold, 
 fell to the ground, and remembers reviving 
 at the foot of the tree, and finding his sister 
 supporting him. He was bruised, but with 
 whole bones. They were belated and 
 frightened ; and both agreed to keep it a 
 secret from their father : and Tom, knowing 
 that his father made a practice of taking 
 pills, thought that pills might do him good
 
 86 ANECDOTES AND OBSERVATIONS. 
 
 too. He took them accordingly, and luckily 
 without producing any bad effect. He got 
 well, and all was secret. 
 
 In relating this story of Tom Paine, Dr. 
 W. remarked, that there are many thousands 
 who will probably exclaim, " What a pity 
 that he had not broke his neck !" But, on 
 the other hand, continued he, when I heard 
 him relate it at Paris, one exclaimed, " The 
 guardian angel of liberty was near thee, 
 Thomas f Dr. W. is a warm republican. 
 I think him an intelligent, a good, and an 
 honest man. 
 
 Memorandum of Folly. — My good old 
 aunt Austin had many sickly children ; 
 burying nine under three years old. With 
 one of them, which was very ailing and 
 fretful, a superstitious cure was attempted. 
 I remember an old woman (Mrs. Osborne, 
 of Honington) being employed to " cut 
 the child for the spleen." The child's ear 
 was cut so as to bleed, and the blood applied
 
 ANECDOTES AND OBSERVATIONS. 87 
 
 on the temples in the form of a cross, and, 
 I believe, with something repeated by way 
 of charm ,• for she had charms for the ague, 
 &c. — The child died. 
 
 Remember having my fancy set to work 
 by a strange and ridiculous song, about a 
 child going to school and meeting the devil, 
 and having a long conversation with him, 
 and showing him a great deal of wit and 
 repartee : — 
 
 " What have you in your basket?" 
 Says the false, false knight. 
 
 " Bread and butter for my dinner," 
 Says the pretty little baby ; 
 And still by the bush she stood. 
 
 " Whose sheep are those in the pasture?" 
 Says the false black knight. 
 
 " Some of them are my father's," 
 Says the pretty little baby ; 
 And still by the bush she stood.
 
 88 ANECDOTES AND OBSERVATIONS. 
 
 " Which of them are your father's ?" 
 
 Says the false, false knight. 
 " All those that have tails behind/' 
 Says the pretty little baby ; 
 And still by the bush she stood. 
 
 "■ Whose stacks of corn are those?" 
 
 Says the coal-black knight. 
 " My father's," &c. 
 
 " I wish they were all on fire, ' 
 Says the false, false knight. 
 " And you all in the middle on 'i," 
 Says the pretty little baby, &c. 
 
 Thus it proceeds for about twenty verses, 
 and I doubt I forget the best of it — what 
 would more certainly have determined its 
 origin, whether from monks or old women, 
 or from some village bard, when the hero 
 of the ballad, the coal-black knight, was in 
 high repute. If this is an ancient ballad, 
 and of no uncommon sort, in English vil- 
 lages, how does it happen that ancient 
 Scotch ballads possess so many beauties.? 
 Or are they only sifted from heaps of rub- 
 bish like the above .'' If so, perhaps a col-
 
 ANECDOTES AND OBSERVATIONS. 89 
 
 lection of English might be formed by the 
 same means. This ditty, sung to the thrum 
 of the spinning-wheel, had its attractions ; 
 and this girl (now named Thompson), and 
 one of the Whiteheads — I think, Sarah — 
 when a girl, were the only persons who ever 
 sung the ballad to my fancy. 
 
 Another song, which my brother Isaac 
 knew when a boy, begins — 
 
 " There was an old ewe, who had but one horn, 
 Chronomo no no none ; 
 
 could never keep her out of the corn. 
 
 Turn round the wheel, my Bunny. 
 
 The butcher came in, with his sharp knife, 
 
 Chronomo, &c. 
 And scared the old ewe almost out of her life. 
 
 Turn, &c. 
 
 She ground her teeth, and she mumbled her 
 pegs, 
 Chronomo, &c. 
 And she ran at the butcher, and broke both his 
 legs. 
 Turn, &c." 
 
 This is evidently a spinning-wheel song ; 
 but perhaps of later date than the former.
 
 90 ANECDOTES AND OBSERVATIONS. 
 
 The last Sunday in March breakfasted 
 with Mr. Rogers; visited Mr. Stothard ; 
 and having to see the Duke of Grafton at 
 five, spent the intermediate hours in Ken- 
 sington-gardens : and recollecting that a 
 razor was to pass my chin before I went 
 there, I sought, and found a little shop in 
 Kensington. The barber was gone half a 
 mile from home, to shave a gentleman. He 
 presently came in, and throwing oif his hat 
 and wig, gave vent to his perspiration and 
 his anger both together. The person was 
 gone out when he got there, and he had his 
 walk for nothing ! — How abominably these 
 things plague a poor man, and disconcert his 
 week''s work ; and he has no remedy — no 
 action for damages ! — The bald-pated, angry 
 old man began his operations upon me ; and 
 I was not quite free from apprehensions on 
 account of his perturbation and appearance 
 — but trust not appearances ! When he 
 had nearly finished, he ordered his girl to 
 wet the corner of a cloth — I wondered what 
 he wanted with it. It was instantly applied 
 to my face ; and though this was the first
 
 ANECDOTES AND OBSERVATIOXS. 91 
 
 lime I had had my face washed by a barber, 
 it appeared to be his custom. These scenes 
 remind me of " Roderick " and his friend 
 " Strap."" Smollett would have made some- 
 thing out of it. [Observed, while refreshing 
 myself at Kensington, a tradesman's board, 
 inscribed 
 
 NEVERS, 
 
 Corn Dealer; Alalt, Hups, (SfC; Coals, 
 
 wholesale and retail; 
 
 Charcoal, Cheesemongcry, Sfc. 
 
 The proximity of charcoal and cheese- 
 mongery, looks rather whimsical. 
 
 In our trade, when any one reads the 
 newspapers or a book, by the neighbourly 
 custom of sitting all in one room, and by 
 that great privilege, of its not hindering the 
 progress of our work, we have nothing to 
 do, but to discuss the subject. Commumty, 
 is perhaps the point, to which those who say 
 that " shoemakers are politicians," might
 
 92 ANECDOTES AND OBSERVATIONS. 
 
 trace the solution of their wonder. But 
 even a newspaper is not all politics. No 
 one can read the daily prints without either 
 learning, or feeling, his want of geographical 
 knowledge. This must lead him to maps ; 
 and maps to reflection : and this reflection, 
 unless it can be proved that it leads him to 
 discontent, is praiseworthy, and full of plea- 
 sure to himself. 
 
 The highest ground in London is about 
 Newgate-street. A stone, with an old in- 
 scription, is fixed on the wall of a baker's 
 house, in a passage leading into Paternoster- 
 row. I was lately led, from a kind of inad- 
 vertent curiosity, to look up to see who had 
 the honour of living on the highest ground, 
 and found the name James Bloomfield — 
 Wonder, if from my country ?
 
 ANECDOTES AND OBSERVATIONS. 93 
 
 The brig Deane, Captain W. D. which 
 arrived at Liverpool on Thursday, from 
 Kentucky, with a cargo of cotton, was built 
 on the Allegany river, in Pennsylvania, and 
 came down the river Ohio into the Mississip- 
 pi, having passed the great falls of the Ohio, 
 and sailed a distance of nearly three thou- 
 sand miles within the land. She is the 
 
 first vessel, which ever came to Europe, 
 from the western waters of the United 
 
 States.— British Press, July 12, 1803. 
 
 August 4, 1804. — State of the Nation 
 (prophetical). — We shall have one out of 
 three ; namely, either 
 
 A sudden peace ; 
 
 A powerful continental diversion * ; or, 
 
 A tremendous attack, and war on our 
 own shores. 
 
 * A powerful continental diversion took place 
 
 a year after writing the above : but Napoleon has 
 
 now, at the battle of Austerlitz, compelled them to 
 
 be quiet, and will return upon us again. I write 
 
 this upon New Year's Day, 1 806.
 
 94 ANECDOTES AND OBSERVATIONS. 
 
 The senseless scurrility, of the public 
 papers, is a disgrace to the country, and to 
 every thing like what I understand by the 
 liberty of the press. 
 
 Mackintosh on the Revolution of France, 
 p. 23. — " The deficit, or inferiority of the 
 revenue to the expenditure, at length arose 
 to the enormous sum of 115 millions of 
 livres, or about 4,750,000/. annually." 
 
 Introduction, page 18. — " The Revolu- 
 tion, whether it be beneficial or injurious, 
 was produced only by general causes, where 
 the conspicuous individual produced little 
 real effect." 
 
 March, 1810. — Mr. Arnold, painter, of 
 Buckingham-place, near Fitzroy-square,has 
 an extract from the parish register of Bowes, 
 or Brows, in Yorkshire, which records the 
 burial of Robert Rightson and Mary Rail-
 
 ANECDOTES AND OBSERVATIONS. 95 
 
 ton. The former died in a fever ; the latter 
 almost instantly, on hearing the bell toll for 
 her lover. To this we owe the beautiful 
 ballad of " Edwin and Emma,"" as appears 
 likewise from the first edition of the ballad 
 now in his hands.
 
 REFLECTIONS. 
 
 VOL. H. jj
 
 REFLECTIONS. 
 
 I ALMOST repine that I know nothing of 
 astronomy. Mr. LofFt often mentions to 
 me things relating thereto, in his letters ; I 
 
 wish I could understand him " Past one 
 
 o'clock : a cloudy morning !" Thus comes 
 in the 15th of March, 1801. That poor 
 man, perhaps, has but eighteen-pence a 
 night for being in the cold — to bed ! to bed ! 
 
 When I think on Egyptian architecture, 
 it seems an oak in a forest of shrubs. Time 
 sweeps away the habitations of men — the 
 under-works of art — as man sweeps away 
 
 u2
 
 100 REFLECTIONS. 
 
 the underwood of a forest : but the pyramid 
 and the oak remain. If London should 
 sink into obhvion, or at least dwindle into 
 a village, what will be the most imperish- 
 able thing in the ruin ? The founda- 
 tions of the bridges would stand a good tug 
 against the assaults of time, and the proud 
 cathedral would hold its elevated ruins full 
 of owls and ivy ; still to be wondered at, 
 when the dwellings should be no more. The 
 greatest undertakings that I know of, now 
 going on, are the Wet Docks at the Isle 
 of Dogs. Thirty acres of land sunk to 
 so great a depth seems a huge attempt; 
 but it is only digging a hole after all ! If 
 it could be possible for London to become a 
 Babylon, the chafings and surgings of old 
 Father Thames — for he would not stop- 
 would leave no traces of labour or art in 
 the docks ; nature would soon blot out the 
 boast of a nation, and the strong arm of the 
 
 invariable tide But I was 
 
 going to say, that I could almost wish for 
 some edifice, in or near the capital, that
 
 REFLECTIONS. 101 
 
 should perpetuate the site of the city. And 
 yet if the walls of Babylon were indeed as 
 substantial as they are said to have been, 
 where are they gone ? 
 
 When London-people walk out of town, 
 like bees from a hive (only seldom on so 
 good an errand), how entirely unacquainted 
 they appear to be, with the warning which 
 the rising clouds give of the approach of a 
 shower. It looks strange, if not laughable, 
 to see a number of well-dressed people, saun • 
 tering with the utmost composure from their 
 homes, full in the face of a black and threat- 
 ening cloud, which in ten minutes is to in- 
 volve them in trouble and vexation. But 
 though the countryman keeps his eyes on 
 the heavens, and preserves a dry coat, he 
 could not turn a corner, or escape a hackney 
 coach, with the dexterity of a Londoner. 
 Every one to his trade !
 
 102 REFLECTIONS. 
 
 A brother-tradesman in the City-road 
 has inscribed over his stall, 
 
 " MASON, 
 
 Shoemaker and Repah'er in generaV 
 
 Well done, shopmate ! " Shoes neatly 
 mended," the common sign for a cobbler, 
 you, no doubt, objected to : but you are a 
 cobbler at last, and why should you be 
 ashamed of it ? 
 
 I think that ambition, courage, and sen- 
 sibility may " run in the blood," as we term 
 it. Should any one of these qualities, or any 
 conspicuous vice or virtue, actually belong 
 to a family, which happens to govern a 
 nation, such inherent quality ought to be 
 expected in any of its branches ; even if the 
 party is not known to be of tlie family, or is 
 in disguise, as is frequently represented in 
 novels and plays. But that a hidden some- 
 thing, an innate nobility, a royalty by na-
 
 REFLECTIONS 103 
 
 ture, should be looked for in every great 
 personage, or person raised accidentally to 
 power, is nonsense in itself, and it is almost 
 criminal to propagate it as a doctrine. Mr. 
 Home has made Norval a true Douglas, pos- 
 sessing his forefathers"' courage ; but I have 
 read several things, which I could not now 
 name, which, in this unnatural distortion 
 of character, were shamefully disgusting. 
 Perhaps this is only saying that they were 
 not written by such men as Home, who 
 knows what belongs to character and what 
 to accident. 
 
 Could not I, as a shoemaker, gather all 
 possible accounts relating to those who have 
 figured in the world from our trade ? Was 
 not Secretary Craggs a chip of leather? 
 Suppose I verify the old story of Crispin ? 
 I wonder nobody has yet ridiculed me and 
 my garret poetry : perhaps a few successful 
 attempts would bring garrets into repute,
 
 104 REFLECTIONS. 
 
 as they ought to be, for they have their 
 advantages; — such as silence, air, cheap- 
 ness, &c. 
 
 A few months back, one of. the news- 
 papers stated something about making all 
 the roads in England straight ! If such a 
 thing was set about, I hope all the work- 
 men, would meet with the same misfortune 
 which befel the devil, while digging a ditch 
 in Cambridgeshire — he broke his spade ! 
 
 It is not good to be too silent in company. 
 
 It being insufferably hot last night, drank 
 some ale in a public-house in the City- 
 road, and being election-time for the county 
 members, was taken for a government spy. 
 
 Two stanch friends of Sir Francis de- 
 clared they loved his cause, and were ready 
 and willing to fight for it ; and poured forth 
 a torrent of abuse against " spies and col- 
 lectors of seditious words.'''' I came away.
 
 REFLECTIONS. 105 
 
 and left them in their error, with the silent 
 imputation on my head ; and could not help 
 reflecting, that if fifteen days' contention at 
 Brentford, could warm men enough to make 
 them fight for their cause, what is the 
 wonder that the men of Paris (when actually 
 murdered by hundreds) should murder 
 again ? They make or conceive a pro- 
 vocation, and weigh it, and act upon it, that 
 instant ! An angry man is the pest of a 
 company; an angry company is the pest 
 of a neighbourhood ; an angry nation is a 
 curse to the world !
 
 CRITICAL.
 
 CRITICAL. 
 
 I NEVER could reconcile to harmony, or 
 even common smoothness, the concluding 
 lines of Pope's description of the death of 
 the Duke of Buckingham, beginning, 
 
 " In the worst inn's worst room," Sec. 
 
 and finishing, 
 
 " There, victor of his health, of fortune, friends. 
 And fame, this lord of useless thousands ends." 
 
 I have often wondered that Pope, so re- 
 markable for harmony, should not feel a 
 harshness here, and that 
 
 Similes in poetry, unless excellently good, 
 are blemishes instead of beauties. When 
 reading Dryden's Virgil, vvhenever I came 
 to an animated passage, and found the
 
 110 CRITICAL. 
 
 author going to look about him to compare 
 it with something else, I felt a vacuum, and 
 then a kind of joy, to find he was again 
 going on with the description, which was 
 higher and nobler than the thing brought 
 into comparison. I often feel the same; 
 and the more strikingly sudden the di- 
 gression is made, so much more reason, has 
 the reader to expect something, to pay him 
 for looking off. — I don't like them, or I 
 should have used more. 
 
 Dibdin's song of " Tom Bowling" com- 
 pares the trumpet, which is to rouse into 
 animation countless myriads of creatures — 
 a world of dust — to what .? to a boatman's 
 whistle, and consequently, the Almighty to 
 a captain ! ! Noav, how is it — am I super- 
 stitious — or is this really natural, and not 
 too bad .''
 
 CRITICAL. Ill 
 
 Coincidences. 
 
 While my Rural Tales were printing, I 
 first got sight of Mr. Wordsworth's Ballads, 
 and was startled to find him saying, in the 
 " Idiot Boy," 
 
 " That Pony 's worth his weight in gold." 
 I had written, without seeing or dreaming 
 of Mr. Wordsworth's remark, almost the 
 same words in " Market Night:" 
 
 " That Beast is worth his weight in gold." 
 
 Now if unborn critics should dispute about 
 this, as I fear they will about many such 
 trifles, I would say (could I rise from the 
 grave), " Mr. W. wrote and published his 
 book first, and I had not seen it." I would 
 beg the learned searchers after imitations 
 and curious coincidences, to give all reason- 
 able scope to charity, and to admit, in all 
 cases, the kindred ideas which must exist in 
 tracing the same subject. I have read some 
 such speculations on other writings with 
 disgust. Resolved to " write to George 
 about it."
 
 112 CRITICAL. 
 
 A large Picture by Westall, called " A 
 Storm in Harvest,'''' 
 
 The sheaves, whether meant for barley 
 or wheat, are a bad crop ; more straw than 
 corn, or rather, the straw is not defined. It 
 appears in the stem as a bundle of fine grass, 
 and there are not ears enough (reckoning a 
 stem to each and no more) to make a sheaf 
 of a quarter the size. 
 
 The couple approaching from the field, 
 on the left, are driven on violently by the 
 storm ; and yet the man and woman in the 
 foreground are siiimg Jficing the weather ! 
 The man is an Abelard — never saw a 
 Suffolk codger like him. The old man's 
 hand to his chin right good. The old wo- 
 man has the best birth as to shelter ; but is 
 it not natural for men as well as beasts to 
 turn their backs to the weather.? I wish 
 Mr. Westall had brought the waggon and 
 horses forwarder. 
 
 I like the old man and woman best of 
 the group, and they may be all highly credit-
 
 CRITICAL. 113 
 
 able to the artist, — but to me they are not 
 English faces. 
 
 In Mr. Westall's " Peasant Boy," I 
 like his attitude ; but his clothing, from the 
 waist downward, is in the Bond-street cut. 
 Such breeches and stockings were never on 
 a peasant boy, unless they came to him at 
 second-hand from the squire. Well done, 
 Robin, for a critic ! ! 
 
 Just borrowed from Mr. Rogers the first 
 volume of Mr. Southey's " Thalaba ;" and 
 amongst a thousand charming instances of 
 powerful description, one strikes my mind, 
 not from its intrinsic merit, great as it is, 
 so much as from the similarity of the thought 
 to what I have written in my wild mood, at 
 page of this book, about three 
 
 years ago. When I contemplated the de- 
 struction of London, I imagined, perhaps 
 truly, that old Thames would roll on the 
 same as if London had never been. Mr. 
 Southey, after bringing his Arabian boy to 
 
 VOL. II. I
 
 114 CRITICAL. 
 
 the ruins of Babylon, makes the following 
 lines a part of his description : 
 
 " The wandering Arab never sets his tent 
 Within her walls. — The shepherd eyes afar 
 Her evil towers — and devious drives his flock. 
 Alone, unchanged, a free and bridgeless tide 
 
 Euphrates rolls along : 
 
 Eternal Nature's work ! " 
 
 If my nonsense had been publicly seen — 
 would the reader have said, I took the idea 
 from Southey, or that he took it from me ? 
 
 The conclusion — when the mind is fixed 
 upon such contemplations, is so natural and 
 inevitable, that if twenty persons were to 
 reflect, and speak out their reflections, they 
 would be all nearly alike. Every one knows 
 that a river was prior to, and will outlast a 
 town. The question is, can they make 
 their reflections and descriptions, nip hold 
 of the soul, like Southey's ? 
 r Again, on the score of coincidences. 
 
 I have long ago composed a ballad, called 
 " Emma''s Kid." Having to make, by de-
 
 CRITICAL. 115 
 
 sire of Lord Buchan, a pair of shoes for his 
 lady, the verses had some kind of reference, 
 the shoes being made of kid leather. Lord 
 Buchan had a copy, which I afterwards 
 regretted, as I conceited that I had mended 
 it on a second attempt ; but having never 
 hked it, it lies in my condemned regiment *. 
 Having a commission lately, to buy for a 
 lady a copy of Shenstone's poems, I found 
 there a poem called " The dying kid."" The 
 similarity surprised me, and disgusted me 
 too. Shenstone's is a beautiful piece, and 
 mine wants every thing which it should 
 have; and if it had been published, the world 
 would have said — and I doubt not that Lord 
 Buchan does say — that it is an humble imi- 
 tation of what in truth I had never seen ! 
 A great deal of the ill-natured and uncandid 
 stuff which is written upon the miscon- 
 ceived subject of "coincidences," is little 
 superior in wisdom to the boy''s exclama- 
 mation — "La, uncle ! why your Essex moon 
 
 is just like our Suffolk moon ! " 
 * See vol. i. 
 
 i2
 
 116 CRITICAL. 
 
 I saw last May, for the first time in my 
 life, the exhibition at Somerset House. In 
 the room set apart for statuary, the most 
 natural, and consequently the most beauti- 
 ful thing in the room, was an infant on its 
 mother's lap, making part of a monumental 
 group by Nollikens. I noticed that every 
 woman who approached it, put on such a 
 look, as pleaded powerfully for their own 
 right feelings, and for the artist. I never 
 felt more from any work of art than from 
 that. 
 
 The Dead Soldier. 
 
 When first I saw this picture, or rather 
 the engraving from the picture, I was highly 
 pleased to find so much done with so few 
 faces, or rather with one face; for none 
 but the infant's is seen. There is more ex- 
 pression in the grasp of the mother's hand, 
 than in twenty wry faces and bloody swords. 
 The infant, too, is like an infant, perfectly
 
 CRITICAL. 117 
 
 unconscious. How abominable it is ever to 
 represent them otherwise ; and yet in that 
 showy thing of the family leaving the de- 
 serted village, I must, think this fault is 
 obvious, and to me disgusting. Another 
 plate, a fellow to it, has a ring of dancers, 
 but it is not Enghsh rusticity. I know not 
 who painted the pictures ; I remember see- 
 ing them in the shop windows, and did not 
 like them. 
 
 S. Rogers, Esq. author of the " Pleasures 
 of Memory,"" has a set of drawings of chil- 
 dren by Stothard. Nobody would find in 
 them an unnatural or adult stiffness of body, 
 or a meaning or consciousness which children 
 possess not. I never saw Mr. Stothard, 
 but he has my sincere admiration. 
 
 Mrs. Robinson's Lyrical Tales. 
 
 The first piece, " All alone," I don't like, 
 for these reasons : It possesses the fault of 
 many pictures which I have noticed ; more
 
 118 CRITICAL. 
 
 susceptibility is given to the child than he 
 could possess. The boy could not, nor 
 would not, remember the ti7ne when he was 
 just learning to talk, and consequently could 
 not say, 
 
 " I felt her breast with rapture bound. 
 When first I prattled on her knee." 
 
 The grief of a child could not, I think, 
 be strong enough to induce him to sleep, 
 night after night, in a churchyard ! 
 
 There seems none of these imperfections 
 in her " Shepherd's Dog." I like it ex- 
 tremely. " He is not mad," is a good 
 stroke ; it has more in it than the " All 
 alone"" and the " Lascar" put together. Mrs. 
 Robinson's delineations of nature are vivid, 
 but I cannot think them just. I should 
 like to see what the critics will say — or 
 have said of them.
 
 CRITICAL. 119 
 
 WordsxvortJi's Lyrical Ballade. 
 
 I go with pleasure and anxiety along with 
 " Betty Fay" by moonlight : it was truly 
 a charming night. " The Thorn," with all 
 its simplicity, I shall never forget. " Simon 
 Lee," " We are seven," and " The Night- 
 ingale," in their eve-like nakedness, I feel 
 greatly pleased with. Resolved to read 
 them through attentively. 
 
 I don't much relish " The Pet Lamb." 
 The " Poet's Reverie" sounds too much like 
 a madman's reverie. It should not be in 
 the same book with " Michael" and " The 
 Brothers." 
 
 Is it right to say " skies f" " The stars 
 in the skies," &c. One charming blue covers 
 the apparent concave over our heads. If 
 we were whelmed under a bowl, should we 
 say the stars in the bowls? I have used 
 this kind of plurality of s¥ies several times.
 
 120 CRITICAL. 
 
 but it don't sound right to my ear, or ap- 
 prehension. 
 
 Children's Books. 
 
 I never get hold of a child's book but I 
 feel an inclination to see how the story is 
 told, be it ever so simple. If I can judge 
 by my girls, the minds of children are much 
 interested by such as are well wiitten ; and 
 it appears of much importance to have them 
 adapted to their years, by the exclusion of 
 words which they cannot be acquainted 
 with : — and, surely, if that curse of beauty 
 and loveliness — affectation, was unsparingly 
 attacked, it would have a good effect. " Je- 
 mima Placid" is a charming thing in this 
 way. " Virtue in a Cottage," is a most 
 pleasing and naturally told story, written by 
 somebody who had seen something, besides 
 the shop windows in Cheapside. I shall 
 remember the " Dog's nose" in " Goody- 
 two-shoes," as long as I live. My mother
 
 CRITICAL. 121 
 
 read it to me and my sister, when very 
 young, and enforced its precepts, and its ex- 
 cellent hits at superstition, in a manner 
 which I shall ever esteem the greatest of 
 her favours, and the most unquestionable 
 proof' of her love and her understanding. 
 As soon as I can find time, I mean to try 
 my hand at some trifle for the use of chil- 
 dren. * 
 
 * This benevolent and useful design Mr. Bloom- 
 field executed in part by the publication of " Little 
 Davy," in 1815, (a book which still continues popu- 
 lar,) and afterwards by an attempt to establish in 
 his family, what was to be called " The Bird and 
 Insect Post-office." The design was to instruct his 
 own children, and others, in natural history, by a 
 method so simple and agreeable, that I am sur- 
 prised it was never thought of before. This method 
 was to keep up a correspondence between different 
 beasts and insects upon topics connected with their 
 habits and supposed feelings. The correspondence 
 was to be conducted by the junior branches of his 
 family, who were thus engaged to impart to each 
 other, in the form of letters, such knowledge of
 
 122 CRITICAL. 
 
 animated nature as they could acquire from books or 
 observation. 
 
 Unhappily, Mr. Bloorafield deferred this under- 
 taking until that woful period when his health had 
 declined — his spirits become dejected — and his cir- 
 cumstances involved in embarrassment and vexation. 
 
 With powers thus enfeebled, it is not wonderful 
 that the correspondence broke off; but I think it 
 will 'gratify the reader to publish, as follows, the 
 intercourse so far as it proceeded. 
 
 Editor.
 
 THK 
 
 BIRD AND INSECTS' 
 POST-OFFICE.
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 We all know that Msop has made his 
 birds and beasts talk, and reason too ; and 
 that so well, as still to make the volume bear- 
 ing his name, a favourite with thousands. 
 Perhaps too, we all know that some French 
 author, has objected to this method of teach- 
 ing; alleging that children should not be 
 imposed upon (or something to that effect), 
 and led to beheve in the reality of talking 
 birds and beasts. To me it appears plainly 
 that they do not, nor are they inclined to 
 believe in any such reality. Observe two or 
 three children at play with a favourite kitten. 
 When one of them, in mere wantonness,
 
 126 PREFACE. 
 
 shall give the little animal a rap on the nose, 
 or a squeeze by the tail, the owner of the 
 cat will instantly exclaim — " Poor little 
 pussy, she does not like that, she says!''' 
 Now, the child knows very well that the 
 cat did not say a word about the matter, 
 but she looked and acted as if she had, and 
 that was enough. 
 
 In the following pages, I have endea- 
 voured to make my winged and creeping 
 correspondents, talk in their own character, 
 according to their well-known habits and 
 pursuits. 
 
 I have added a few notes, sometimes of 
 illustration and sometimes of inquiry ; for, 
 as natural history is almost a boundless 
 field, I may stand in need of correction my- 
 self. It will be obvious that I have taken 
 only some of the plainest and simplest sub- 
 jects, for the purpose of trying whether any 
 interest can be awakened in young minds by 
 such means. And as I like to write for 
 children, and think a great deal of informa- 
 tion might be blended with amusement in
 
 PREFACE. 127 
 
 this way, I hold myself acquitted of the 
 charge of trifling and puerility, and am the 
 young reader's friend and well-wisher, 
 
 R. B. 
 
 P. S. — The letters signed C. are written, 
 or translated, if you please, by my eldest 
 son ; together with the verses on the close 
 of May-day, at the end of the volume.
 
 THE 
 
 BIRD AND INSECTS' 
 POST-OFFICE. 
 
 LETTER I. 
 
 FROM THE MAGPIE TO THE SPARROW. 
 LITTLE JABBERER, 
 
 I HAVE many times thought of 
 addressing to you a few words of advice, as 
 you seem to stand in need of such a friend. 
 You know that I do not stand much 
 upon ceremony; I am always ready for 
 talking and for giving advice, and really 
 
 VOL. II. K
 
 130 THE BIRD AND INSECTS' 
 
 wonder how other birds can keep themselves 
 so quiet. Then you will pardon my frank- 
 ness, since you know my character, when I 
 inform you, that I think you remarkably 
 tame and spiritless : you have no enterprise 
 in you. In an old farm-yard, shuffling 
 amongst the straw, there you may be found 
 morning, noon, and night; and you are 
 never seen in the woods, and groves, with me 
 and my companions, where we have the 
 blessing of free liberty, and fly where we 
 please. You must often have heard me 
 sing ; that cannot be doubted, because I am 
 heard a great way. As to me, I never 
 come down to your farm, unless 1 think I 
 can find a hen's egg or two amongst the 
 nettles, or a chicken or duck just hatched. 
 I earnestly advise you to change your 
 manner of life, and take a httle free air, as 
 I do. Stop no longer in your dull yard, 
 feeding upon pigs' leavings, but come 
 abroad with me.— But I must have done, 
 till a better opportunity; for the game- 
 keeper with his gun has just turned the
 
 POST-OFFICE. 131 
 
 corner. Take my advice, and you may be 
 as well off, and learn to sing as well as I do. 
 Yours, in great haste, 
 Mag. 
 
 LETTER II. 
 
 THE sparrow's REPLY. 
 
 OLD MAG. (I won't say neighbour), 
 
 I WAS hopping along the top 
 ridge of the house Avhen I received your in- 
 solent and conceited epistle, which does you 
 no credit, but is very much in your usual 
 style. " Little Jabberer," indeed ! and 
 pray, what is your letter of advice ? Nothing 
 but jabber from beginning to end. You 
 aing, you say. I have heard you often 
 enough : but if yours is singing, then I 
 must be allowed to be no judge of the mat- 
 ter. You say you are afraid of the game- 
 
 k2
 
 182 THE BIRD AND INSECTs' 
 
 keeper ; this, perhaps, shows some sense in 
 you ; for he is paid for killing all kinds of 
 vermin. 
 
 And so you come down to our farm when 
 you think you can steal something ! Thus, 
 if I did not hide my eggs, and my young 
 ones, in a hole too small for you to enter, I 
 can see pretty plainly, how I should come 
 off with your thieving and your advice. 
 
 Be advised myour turn : keep away from 
 our yard ; for my master has a gun too ; and 
 your chattering, which I suppose you call 
 singing, he abominably hates. You will be 
 in danger of catching what the game-keeper 
 threatens, and then where is the great dif- 
 ference between your station and mine ? 
 
 From my lodging under the thatch of 
 the stable, I am, as you may happen to be- 
 have yourself, 
 
 Yours, at a convenient distance, 
 
 &c. &c.
 
 POST-OFFICE. 183 
 
 LETTER III. 
 
 FROM A YOUNG GARDEN SPIDER TO HER 
 MOTHER. 
 
 DEAR MOTHER, 
 
 I CANNOT exactly tell what hap- 
 pened before I came out of the shell ; but, 
 from circumstances, I can give you some in- 
 formation. When I came to life, amongst 
 some scores of other little merry yellow 
 creatures, I found myself, and all of us, en- 
 closed in a thing, through which we with 
 our eight eyes could see very well, but could 
 not instantly get out. I soon perceived 
 that we, in the egg state, wrapped in a white 
 bag, as you left us, had been put into a 
 thing called a bottle, by one of those great 
 creatures, whom we always call strklers; but 
 this was a particular one of that tribe, who 
 wanted to play tricks with us — one whom
 
 134 THE BIRD AND INSECTS' 
 
 they would perhaps call a philosopher*. 
 Well, his own sense (if he had any) told him 
 that we could not live without air ; so he 
 left the cork out, and went about his busi- 
 ness ; no doubt, of much less consequence 
 than the lives of all us prisoners — but that 
 they do not mind. But how long were we 
 prisoners ? Why, as soon as ever we were 
 out of the shell, we began to spin, and 
 linked our M^ebs so thick together, that the 
 philosopher's bottle would hold us no longer. 
 We climbed out in a crowd, and spread our 
 webs over the room, up to the very ceiling. 
 I shall never forget how the great booby 
 stared, when he saw us all climbing up our 
 own rope-ladders .' I wonder if those great 
 creatures are not sometimes caught in webs 
 spun by their fellow-creatures, and whether 
 they are not sometimes put by hundreds 
 into a bottle, without possessing any means 
 
 * This part of the letter is rery difficult of trans- 
 lation, as the plain word, in spider's language, means 
 merely " a deep one."
 
 POST-OFFICE. 135 
 
 of escape ? But I am but a child, and must 
 live and learn before I talk more freely. 
 
 Long life to you, dear mother, and plenty 
 of flies. 
 
 Yours ever, &c. 
 
 LETTER IV 
 
 FROM A YOUNG NIGHTINGALE TO A WREN. 
 
 Dated " Home Wood." 
 NEIGHBOUR, 
 
 When we last met, you seemed. very 
 lively and agreeable, but you asked an abun- 
 dance of questions, and particularly wanted 
 to know whether we nightingales really do, 
 as is said of us, cross the great water every 
 year, and return in the spring to sing in 
 your English groves. Now, as I am but 
 young, I must be modest, and not prate 
 about what I cannot as yet understand. I 
 must say, nevertheless, that I never heard
 
 136 THE BIRD AND INSECTS'" 
 
 my parents talk of any particular long jour- 
 ney which they had performed to reach this 
 country, or that they should return, and 
 take me, and the rest of the family with them, 
 at any particular time or season. I know 
 this, that I never saw my parents fly further 
 at one flight, than from one side of a field to 
 another, or from one grove to the next. 
 Who are they who call us " birds of pass- 
 age *?" They certainly may know more of 
 
 * CowpEK, that excellent man and poet, and close 
 observer of nature, writes as follows to his friend, 
 on the llth of March, 1792. 
 
 " To John Johnson, Esq. 
 
 " You talk of primroses that you pulled on Can- 
 dlemas-day, but what think you of me^ who heard 
 a nightingale on New Year's day } Perhaps I am 
 the only man in England who can boast of such 
 good fortune. Good indeed ! for if it was at all an 
 omen, it could not be an unfavourable one. The 
 winter, however, is now making himself amends, 
 and seems the more peevish for having been en- 
 croached on at so undue a season. Nothing less
 
 POST-OFFICE. 137 
 
 the extent of the Great Waters than we 
 can, neighbour Wren, but have they con- 
 
 than a large slice out of the spring will satisfy 
 him." 
 
 He adds the following lines on the occasion : 
 
 " To the Nightingale, which the Author heard sing 
 on New Years-day, 1792. 
 
 " Whence is it that amazed I hear 
 From yonder wither'd spray. 
 This foremost morn of aU the year. 
 The melody of May ? 
 
 And why, since thousands wovdd be proud 
 
 Of such a favour shown. 
 Am I selected from the crowd. 
 
 To witness it alone? 
 
 Sing'st thou, sweet Philomel, to me. 
 
 For that I also long 
 Have practis'd in the groves like thee, 
 
 Though not like thee in song ? 
 
 Or, sing'st thou rather under force 
 
 Of some divine command, 
 Commission'd to presage a course 
 
 Of happier days at hand ?
 
 138 THE BIRD AND INSECTs' 
 
 sidered our powers, and the probability of 
 what they assert ? I am sure, if my parents 
 should call on me to go with them, I shall be 
 flurried out of my life. But it is my busi- 
 ness to obey. I have so lately got my 
 feathers, that I cannot be a proper judge of 
 the matter. As to the swallows and many 
 other birds going to avast distance, there is 
 no wonder in that, if you look at their wings ; 
 but how would you, for instance, perform 
 sucli a journey ; you, who seem to be in 
 a constant agitation and flutter ; you, who 
 even when you sing, put yourself into a 
 violent passion, as if you had not a minute 
 to live ? We nightingales are the birds for 
 song ! This you will acknowledge, I dare 
 
 Thrice welcome, then ! for many a long 
 
 And joyless year have I, 
 As thou to-day, put forth my song 
 
 Beneath a wintry sky. 
 
 But thee no wintry skies can harm. 
 
 Who only need'st to sing 
 To make e'en January charm. 
 
 And every season Spring.
 
 POST-OFFICE. 139 
 
 say, though I have not began yet. I will 
 give you a specimen when I come back (if 
 1 am really to go), and you will hear me in 
 " Home Wood" when it is dark, and you 
 have crept into your little nest in the hovel. 
 Believe me, I have a great respect for 
 you, and am your young friend, 
 
 Third-in-the-nest. 
 
 LETTER V. 
 
 FROM AN EARWIG, DEPLORING THE LOSS OF 
 ALL HER CHILDREN. 
 
 DEAR AUNT, 
 
 You cannot think how distressed 
 I have been, and still am ; for, under the 
 bark of a large elm, which, I dare say, has 
 stood there a great while, I had placed my 
 whole family, where they were dry, com- 
 fortable, and, as I foolishly thought, secure.
 
 140 THE BIRD AND INSECTS* 
 
 But only mark what calamities may fall 
 upon earwigs before they are aware of them ! 
 I had just got my family about me, all white, 
 clean, and promising children, when pounce 
 came down that bird they call a wood- 
 pecker ; when, thrusting his huge beak un- 
 der the bark where we lay, down went our 
 whole sheltering roof! and my children, 
 poor things, running, as they thought, from 
 danger, were devoured as fast as the de- 
 stroyer could open his beak and shut it. 
 For my own part, I crept into a crack in the 
 solid tree, where I have thus far escaped: 
 but as this bird can make large holes into 
 solid timber, I am by no means safe. 
 
 This calamity is the more heavy, as it 
 carries with it a great disappointment ; for 
 very near our habitation was a high wall, 
 the sunny side of which was covered with 
 the most delicious fruits ; peaches, apricots, 
 nectarines, &c. all just then ripening ; and 
 I thought of having such a feast with my 
 children as I had never enjoyed in my life. 
 
 I am surrounded by wood-peckers, jack-
 
 POST-OFFICE. 141 
 
 daws, magpies, and other devouring crea- 
 tures, and think myself very unfortunate. 
 Yet, perhaps, if I could know the situa- 
 tion of some larger creatures — I mean par- 
 ticularly such as would tread me to death 
 if I crossed their path — they may have com- 
 plaints to make, as well as I. 
 
 Take care of yourself, my good old aunt, 
 and I shall keep in my hiding-place as long 
 as starvation will permit. And, after all, 
 perhaps the fruit was not so delicious as it 
 looked — I am resolved to think so, just to 
 comfort myself. 
 
 Yours, with compliments, as usual.
 
 142 THE BIRD AND INSECTs' 
 
 LETTER VI. 
 
 FROM THE WILD DUCK TO THE TAME DUCK. 
 
 Dated Lincoln and Ely Fens. 
 DEAR COUSIN, 
 
 I SUPPOSE I must call you so ; 
 thouo;h I declare I know not how we are re- 
 lated. But though I am thought so very 
 wild and shy, I have still a kind of fellow- 
 feeling for you ; and, if you are not gone 
 to the spit before this comes to you, I should 
 be glad of your reply in a friendly way. 
 You know very well that you are intended 
 to be eaten, and so are we — when they can 
 catch VIS. I understand that you never 
 fly, and that you seldom waddle above a 
 meadow's length from your pond, where 
 you keep puddling and groping from day- 
 light till dark. This, I assure you, is not 
 the life that I lead. We fly together in 
 vast numbers in the night, for many miles, 
 over this flat, wet country : so, as to water,
 
 POST-OFFICE. 143 
 
 we have an inexhaustible store; we may 
 swim ourselves tired. But, I dare say, 
 every station of our duck-hves is subject to 
 some disadvantages and some calamities. 
 Thus, with all our wildness, we are not se- 
 cure ; for we are taken sometimes by hun- 
 dreds in a kind of trap, which is called a 
 decoy*. 
 
 Some of our tribe have been made tame 
 like you (but I hope yon are not so false- 
 
 * " Bedford Level, a track of fens consisting of 
 300,000 acres, in the counties of Norfolk, Suffolk, 
 Huntingdon, Northampton, Lincoln, Cambridge, 
 and the Isle of Ely, which appears to have been 
 dry land formerly, by the ruins of houses, large 
 trees, &c. that have been found in several parts. 
 After divers expensive attempts to ilrain these fens 
 in the reign of Henry VI. and Charles I., William, 
 duke of Bedford, and others, in 1649, undertook 
 and completed it, so far as to bring about 100,000 
 acres of good land into use. In these fens are several 
 decoys, where astonishing quantities of wild-fowl 
 are taken during the season. One of these, not far 
 from Ely, generally sends 3000 couple weekly to 
 London, and is let for 500/. a year." 
 
 See Walker's Gazetteer, article ' Bedford Level.'
 
 l^'i THE BIRD AND INSECTS* 
 
 hearted), and then their masters feed them 
 plentifully, in a place contrived on purpose, 
 with a narrow entrance, with which these 
 traitor ducks are well acquainted, so that 
 they can pass in and out at a place which 
 we strangers should never have thought of. 
 They are sent out in the dusk of the evening, 
 when they soon join with large companies 
 of us strangers; and knowing, as they do, 
 their way home, and that they shall find 
 food, they set off, close at each other's tails, 
 along a ditch or water-course, and we fools 
 follow them. 
 
 The entrance, as far as I could see of it, 
 is very narrow ; for I have been twice within 
 a hair's breadth of being caught, and do 
 not pretend to know all about it ; but I wish 
 heartily, that every duck and drake in the 
 country — ay, and every one of our allies, 
 the geese, too, could say as much ; could say 
 that " they had twice been on the verge of 
 destruction, by keeping bad company, but 
 had escaped." 
 
 What becomes of my companions, when
 
 POST-OFFICE. 145 
 
 taken, I think I have heard pretty accu- 
 rately ; for there is somewhere, a very large 
 assemblage of fellow-creatures to those, who 
 catch us, and whose demand seems never to 
 be satisfied. Well, never mind, cousin ; I 
 am determined to fly and swim too, as long 
 as I can, and I advise you to do the same, 
 and make the most of your day. 
 
 Hoping to hear from you, I am affection- 
 ately your wild cousin. 
 
 LETTER VII. 
 
 THE TAME DUCK's REPLY. 
 
 COUSIN WILDING, 
 
 I CONFESS I did not at all expect 
 to hear from you ; for I always believed you 
 to be one of those thoughtless young crea- 
 tures which are to be found in other stations 
 of life, as well as in yours and mine, who, as 
 soon as they get fledged, and able to get 
 
 VOL. II. L
 
 146 THE BIRD AND INSECTS' 
 
 abroad, care no more for their parents, and 
 those who brought them up, than I care 
 for a shower of rain. However, you have 
 escaped danger tivice, and you have reason 
 to congratulate yourself. I have been sitting 
 here upon ten eggs for three weeks past, 
 and, of course, have another week to be 
 confined ; but then the thoughts of the plea- 
 sure I shall have in hatching and guiding my 
 young ones to the water, is ample payment 
 for all my pains. They will look so clean 
 and so delighted, and will do as they are 
 bid by the smallest quack that I can utter, 
 that I must be a bad mother indeed if I am 
 not proud of them. Perhaps you will won- 
 der when I tell you that we have a creature 
 here — fledged indeed — which is called a 
 hen ; a strange, cackling, flying, useless, 
 noisy, silly creature, which is as much afraid 
 of v/ater as you are of your decoy. I have 
 often known one of these birds to hatch nine 
 or ten of my eggs ; and then if you wanted 
 to ridicule the lifted foot of conceit, and the 
 dignity of assumed importance, you should
 
 POST-OFFICE. 147 
 
 see her lead her young, or more properly, 
 see the young lead her to the nearest water 
 they can find. In they go, and she begins 
 to call and scold, and run round the edge 
 to save them from drowning ! Now, what 
 fools these hens must be compared to us 
 ducks ! at least, I, for one, am determined 
 to think so. I have seen this same hen Avith 
 the brood about her, scratching in our farm- 
 yard with all her might; when, not con- 
 sidering who was behind her, or who under 
 her feathers, she has kicked away one little 
 yellow duck with one of her claws, and an- 
 other with the other, till I wished I had her 
 in a pond ; I would have given her a good 
 sousing, depend upon it. But really, cousin, 
 don't you think that this way of contradict- 
 ing our natures and propensities, is very 
 wrong? Suppose, for instance, I should 
 set upon a dozen of that silly creature's 
 eggs which I mentioned above — for 1 will 
 never consent to have them matched with 
 us — I should then, to be sure, have a week's 
 holiday, as they sit but three weeks: but 
 
 T o
 
 148 THE BIRD AND INSECTS' 
 
 what should I bring to Hght ? a parcel of 
 little, useless, tip-toed, cowardly things, that 
 would not follow me into the pond — I can- 
 not bear to think of it. I have written you 
 a long letter, and can think of no more but 
 quack ! quack ! quack ! and farewell. 
 
 LETTER VIII. 
 
 FROM THE GANDER TO THE TURKEY-COCK*. 
 
 Old friend, you certainly have merit ; 
 
 You really are a bird of spirit ! 
 
 1 *m quite surprised, I must confess ; 
 
 I did not think you did possess 
 
 Such valour as you 've lately shown — 
 
 In fact, 'tis nearly like my own. 
 
 You know I 've always been renown'd 
 
 For bravery, since first I found 
 
 That I could hiss ; and feel I 'm bolder 
 
 Each year that I am growing older. 
 
 * By Charles Bloomfield, eldest son of the de- 
 ceased.
 
 POST-OFFICE. 149 
 
 You must, I 'in sure, have often seen. 
 
 When in the pond, or on the green. 
 
 With all my family about me, 
 
 (I can't think how they'd do without me). 
 
 Some human thing come striding by. 
 
 And how, without a scruple, I 
 
 March after him and bite his heel ; 
 
 And then, you know, the pride I feel 
 
 To hear, as back I march again. 
 
 The feat extoll'd by all my train. 
 
 But if T were to tell you all 
 
 The valiant actions, great and small, 
 
 That ever were achieved by me, 
 
 I never should have done, I see j 
 
 For cows, and pigs, and horses know 
 
 The consequence of such a foe. 
 
 However, I am glad to find 
 
 That you have such a noble mind. 
 
 And think, my friend, that by and by 
 
 You '11 rise to be as great as I. 
 
 Your old friend. 
 Hiss.
 
 150 THE BIRD AND INSECTS' 
 
 LETTER IX. 
 
 THE DUNGHILL COCK TO THE CHAFFINCH. 
 
 I HAVE often, during the spring and sum- 
 ma*, heard you of a morning piping away in 
 the hedges, sometimes as soon as I was up 
 myself, and thought your singing pretty 
 fair, and that you conducted yourself as 
 you ought to do. But this I cannot say 
 lately; for it is quite overstepping the 
 bounds of decency and good manners, when 
 you and your brother pilferers, now the 
 winter is come, make it your daily practice 
 to come by scores, as you do, into our yard, 
 and without any ceremony eat up all the 
 barley you can lay your beaks to. I sup- 
 pose when the spring comes again, and you 
 find more to satisfy you outside a farm-yard 
 than within, you will be off to the hedges 
 again. I shall let you alone, unless the 
 barley runs short, which is to support my 
 wives and children ; when, if you still ven-
 
 POST-OFFICE. 151 
 
 ture to continue your pllferings, you must 
 not be surprised should some of you feel 
 the weight of my displeasure. 
 
 I must go after my family, who are all 
 out of my sight since I have been writing 
 this. 
 
 Yoursj in haste, and a friend if possible, 
 
 Chanticleer. 
 
 LETTER X. 
 
 THE BLUE-BOTTLE FLY TO THE GRASS- 
 
 HOPPER*. 
 
 As I roam'd t'other day. 
 Neighbour Hop, in my way 
 
 I discover'd a nice rotten plum, 
 Which you know is a treat j 
 And, to taste of the sweet, 
 
 A swarm of relations had come. 
 
 • By C. Bloofimeld.
 
 152 THE BIRD AND INSECTS^ 
 
 So we all settled round, 
 
 As it lay on the ground, 
 And were feasting ourselves with delight; 
 
 But, for want of more thought 
 
 To have watch'd, as we ought. 
 We were suddenly seized — and held tight 
 
 In a humans clench'd hand. 
 
 Where, unable to stand. 
 We were twisted and tumbled about; 
 
 But perceiving a chink, 
 
 You will readily think 
 I exerted myself — I got out. 
 
 How the rest got away 
 
 I really can't say, 
 But I flew with such ardour and glee, 
 
 That again, unawares, 
 
 I got into the snares 
 Of my foe, Mr. Spider, you see j 
 
 Who so fiercely came out 
 
 Of his hole, that no doubt 
 He expected that I was secure : 
 
 But he found 'twould not do, 
 
 For I forced ray way through, 
 Overjoy'd on escaping, you're sure.
 
 POST-OFFICE. 153 
 
 But I'll DOW take my leave. 
 
 For the clouds, I perceive. 
 Are darkening over the sky ; 
 
 The sun is gone in. 
 
 And I really begin 
 To feel it grow cooler — Good bye ! 
 I'm, as ever, yours — Blue-bottle Fly. 
 
 LETTER XL 
 
 THE GLOW-WORM TO THE HUMBLE-BEE*. 
 
 Excuse, Mr. Bee, this epistle, to one 
 Whose time, from the earliest gleam of the sun 
 Till he sinks in the west, is so busily spent. 
 That I fear I intrude ; — but I write with intent 
 To save your whole city from pillage and ruin. 
 And to warn you in time of a plot that is brewing. 
 Last night, when, as usual, enjoying the hour 
 When the gloaming had spread, and a trickling 
 shower 
 
 » By C. Bloomfield.
 
 154 THE BIRD AND INSECTs"' 
 
 Was beading the grass as it silently fell, 
 And day with reluctance was bidding farewell; 
 When down by yon hedge, nearly opposite you, 
 And your City of Honey, as proudly I threw 
 The rays from my lamp in a magical round 5 
 I listen'd, alarm'd upon hearing the sound 
 Of human intruders approaching more near ; 
 But I presently found / had nothing to fear. 
 For the hedge was between us, and I and my 
 
 gleam 
 Lay hid from their view : when the following 
 
 scheme 
 I heard, as they shelter'd beneath the old tree, 
 And send you each creature's own words, Mr. 
 
 Bee:— 
 " See, Jack, there it is ; now suppose you and I, 
 " With a spade and some brimstone, should each 
 
 of us try 
 " Some night, when we're sure all the bees are at 
 
 rest, 
 " To smother them all, and then dig out the nest ?" 
 — " I know we can do it," said Jack with delight ; 
 " I can't come to-morrow ; but s'pose the next 
 
 night
 
 POST-OFFICE. 155 
 
 " We both set about it, if you are inclined ; 
 *' And then we'll halve all the honey we find." — 
 " Agreed," said the other, "but let us begone." — 
 And they left me in thought until early this morn ; 
 When I certainly meant, if your worship had staid 
 But a minute or two, till my speech 1 had made. 
 To have saved you the reading, as well as the cost 
 Of a letter by post — but my words were all lost. — 
 For though they were lavish'd each time you came 
 
 near. 
 Or was close over head, and I thought you 
 
 should hear j 
 Yet the buzz of importance, as onward you flew. 
 Bobbing into each flower the whole meadow 
 
 through. 
 So baffled your brains that I let you alone. 
 For I found, that I might as well speak to a drone ; 
 Yet, rather than quietly leave you to fate, 
 (Such a villanous thought never enter'd my 
 
 pate), 
 I send you this letter, composed by the light 
 Of my silvery lamp in the dead of the night. 
 And about the same time, and the very same 
 
 place, 
 That, a few nights ago, when the moon hid her 
 face.
 
 156 THE BIRD AND INSECTS' 
 
 I beheld, nearly hid in the grass as I lay. 
 And my lamp in full splendour reflecting its ray 
 In the eye of each dew-drop, the Fairies unseen 
 To all human vision, trip here with their Queen 
 To pay me a visit, to dance and to feast ; 
 And their revels continued, till full in the east. 
 The sun tinged the clouds for another bright day. 
 When each took the warning, and bounded away; 
 'Tis the same at this moment : — farewell, Mr. 
 
 Hum, 
 I 've extinguish'd my lamp, for the morning is 
 
 come. 
 
 Spangle. 
 
 LETTER XII. 
 
 FROM THE PIGEON TO THE PARTRIDGE. 
 
 What a long time it is since I received 
 your kind letter about the ripening corn, 
 and the dangers you were presently to be 
 subject to, with all your children. You 
 will think me very idle, or very unfeeling,
 
 POST-OFFICE. 157 
 
 if I delay answering you any longer ; I will 
 therefore tell you some of my own troubles, 
 to convince you, that I have had causes of 
 delay, which you can have no notion of until 
 I explain them. You must know, then, 
 that we are subject to more than the ran- 
 dom gun-shot in the field, for we are some- 
 times taken out of our house a hundred at 
 a time, and put into a large basket to be 
 placed in a meadow, or spare plat of ground 
 suiting the purpose, there to be murdered 
 at leisure. This they call " shooting from 
 the trap *,"* and is done in this way. We 
 being imprisoned, as I have said, as thick 
 as we can stand in the basket, a man 
 
 * I once witnessed this silly and barbarous sport ; 
 and saw at least a score of maimed and wounded birds 
 upon the barns, and stables, and outhouses of the 
 village. I was utterly disgusted, and it required a 
 strong effort of the mind, to avoid wishing that one 
 of the gunners, at least, had hobbled off the ground 
 with a dangling leg, which might for one half year 
 have reminded him, of the cowardly practice of 
 " shooting from the trap." 
 
 t
 
 158 TPIE BIRD AND INSECTs' 
 
 is placed by us, to take us out singly^ and 
 carry us to a small box, at the distance of 
 fifty or sixty yards ; this box has a lid, to 
 which is attached a string, by means of which, 
 he, the man (if he is a man), can draw up 
 the Ud, and let us fly at a signal given. 
 Every sensible pigeon of course flies for his 
 life, for, ranged on each side, stand from 
 two to four or six men with guns, who fire 
 as the bird gets upon the wing ; and the 
 cleverest fellows are those, who can kill most ; 
 ' — and this they call sport ! I have sad cause 
 to know how this sport is conducted, for I 
 have been in the trap myself. Only one 
 man, or perhaps a boy fired at me as I rose ; 
 but I received two wounds, for one shot 
 passed through my crop, but I was asto- 
 nished to find how soon it got well ; the 
 other broke my leg just below the feathers. 
 O what anguish I suffered for two months, 
 — at the end of which time it withered and 
 dropped off". So now instead of running 
 about amongst my red-legged brethren, as 
 a pigeon ought, I am obliged to hop like a
 
 POST-OFFICE. 159 
 
 sparrow. But only consider what glory 
 this stripling must have acquired, to have 
 actually fired a gun, and broke a pigeon's 
 leg ! ! Well, we both know, neighbour Par- 
 tridge, what the Hawk is ; he stands for no 
 law, nor no season, but eats us when he is 
 hungry. He is a perfect gentleman com- 
 pared to these " Lords of the Creation,"" as 
 I am told they call themselves ; and I de- 
 clare to you upon the honour of a pigeon, 
 that I had much rather be torn to pieces by 
 the Hawk than be shut up in a box at a con- 
 venient distance to be shot at by a dastard. 
 You partridges are protected during great 
 part of the year by severe laws, but whether 
 such laws are wise, merciful, or just, I 
 cannot determine, but I know that they are 
 strictly kept, and enforced by those who 
 make them. Take care of yourself, for the 
 harvest is almost ripe. 
 
 I am your faithful 
 
 ONE-LEGGED FRIEND AT THE GRANGE.
 
 160 THE BIRD AND INSECTS' 
 
 LETTER XIII. 
 
 THE WOOD-PIGEON TO THE OWL. 
 
 MY GOOD, OLD, WISE, SECLUDED, AND 
 QUIET FRIEND, 
 
 I WKITE to you in the fulness of my heart, 
 for I have been grossly insulted by the 
 Magpie, in a letter received this morning ; 
 in which, I am abused for what my fore- 
 fathers did long before I was born. I know 
 of nothing more base, or more unjust, than 
 thus raking up old quarrels *, and reproach- 
 
 * The poor pigeon, I think, must here allude to 
 the old well-known quarrel between the two families, 
 about building their nests. The magpie once un- 
 dertook to teach the pigeon how to build a more 
 substantial and commodious dwelling, and certainly 
 it would have become the learner to have observed 
 her progress, and not interrupt the teacher ; but 
 the pigeon kept on her usual cry, " take two, taffy, 
 take two," (for thus it is translated in Suffolk), but
 
 POST-OFFICE 161 
 
 ing those who had nothing to do with them. 
 The letter must have come through your 
 office, but I know you have not the autho- 
 rity to break open and examine letters, pass- 
 ins: between those who should be friends, I 
 
 Mag insisted this was wrong, and that one stick at 
 a time was quite enough ; still the pigeon kept on 
 her cry, " take two, take two," until the teacher 
 in a violent passion gave up the undertaking, ex- 
 claiming, " I say that one at a time is plenty, and 
 if you think otherwise, you may set about the work 
 yourself, for I will have no more to do with it." 
 Since that time the wood-pigeon has built a wretched 
 nest sure enough, so thin that you may frequently 
 see her two eggs through it, and if not placed near 
 the body of a tree, or on strong branches, it is often 
 thrown down by the wind, or the eggs rolled out ; 
 yet the young of this bird, before they are half 
 grown, will defend themselves against any intruder, 
 at which time the parent bird will dash herself down 
 amongst the standing corn, or high grass, and be- 
 have, as though her wings were broken, and she was 
 utterly disabled ; and this she does to draw off the 
 enemy from her young ; so that this bird is not so 
 foolish as Mag would make us believe. 
 
 VOL. II. M
 
 162 THE BIRD AND INSECTS* 
 
 therefore do not accuse you ; but sometimes 
 the heart is relieved by stating its troubles, 
 even when no redress can be expected. I 
 know that you cannot bring to punishment 
 that slanderer, that babbler of the woods, 
 any more than I can ; but I wish you would 
 give me a word of comfort, if it is ever so 
 short. 
 
 From the plantation of firs, 
 
 near the forest side, 
 
 WoOD-PlGEON. 
 
 LETTER XIV. 
 
 THE OWL IN REPLY TO THE WOOD-PIGEON. 
 DISTRESSED NEIGHBOUR, 
 
 I AM sorry for your trouble, but cheer up 
 your spirits, and though you are insulted, 
 remember who it is that gives the affront, it 
 is only the magpie ; and depend upon it.
 
 5 
 
 POST-OFFICE. 163 
 
 that in general, the best way to deal with 
 impudent fools is to be silent, and take no 
 notice of them. I should have enough to 
 do, if I were to resent all her impertinences. 
 She will come sometimes round the ivy 
 where I lodge in the old elm, or into the 
 tower on the top of the hill ; and there she 
 will pimp and pry into my private concerns 
 and mob me, and call me " old Wigsby 
 and " doctor Winkum," and such kind of 
 names, and all for nothing. I assure you 
 it is well for her, that she is not a mouse, or 
 she should not long escape my talons : but 
 whoever heard of such a thing as eating a 
 magpie? I live chiefly on mice (when I 
 am at liberty to catch them), but I have my 
 complaints to make, as well as you, for 
 you know I hold a high situation in the 
 post-office, and I suppose you know, like- 
 wise, that the letters are brought in so very 
 late, that it often takes me half the night to 
 sort them, and night is the very time when 
 I ought to get my own food ! At this rate 
 of going on, and if the cats are industrious 
 
 m2
 
 164 THE BIRD AND INSECTS'* 
 
 as usual, there will not be a mouse left for 
 me, if I do not give up my place. 
 
 I have heard that my family are famed 
 for wisdom ; but for my part, I Avill not 
 boast of any such thing : yet I am wise 
 enough to know, that other people in high 
 offices expect either a good salary or per- 
 quisites, as a reward for their labour, or 
 what is easier still, somebody to do all the 
 work for them. If I hold in my present 
 mind until next quarter, I will certainly 
 send in my resignation. Thus you see what 
 an important thing it is to suit the office to 
 the person, or the person to the office on 
 whom it is conferred ; for had the magpie, 
 for instance, been secretary, every one of 
 the letters would have been peeped into, for 
 a certainty, for nothing can escape her curi- 
 osity. I will try to bear with my situation 
 a little longer, and believe me to be. 
 
 Your true friend. 
 Secretary to the 
 
 Board of Managers.
 
 POST-OFFICE. 165 
 
 LETTER XV. 
 
 FROM A SWALLOW IN THE SOUTH OF FRANCE 
 TO AN ENGLISH ROBIN. 
 
 DEAR LITTLE BOB, 
 
 I REMEMBER your peaceful singing on 
 the top of your shed, near my late dwelling, 
 and I remember, also, that I promised to 
 write you some account of my journey. 
 You may recollect, that at the close of your 
 summer, when flies become scarce, we all 
 assembled on a sunny morning, on the roof 
 of the highest building in the village, and 
 talked loudly of the flight we intended to 
 take. At last came the day appointed, 
 and we mounted up in a vast body and 
 steered southward. Being hatched in Eng- 
 land, I had thought your valleys and 
 streams matchless in beauty ; and for any 
 thing I know to the contrary, they certainly 
 are ; but I am now a traveller, and have a
 
 166 THE BIRD AND INSECTS* 
 
 traveller's privilege to say what I like. 
 When we reached the great water, I was 
 astonished at its width, but more still to 
 see many travelling houses going at a pro- 
 digious rate, and sending forth from iron 
 chimneys columns of black smoke over the 
 face of the water, reaching further than you 
 ever flew in your life ; they have a contriv- 
 ance on each side which puts the waves all 
 in commotion, but they are not wings. My 
 mother says that in old times, when swal- 
 lows came to England, there were no such 
 things to be seen. We crossed this water, 
 and a fine sunny country beyond it, until I 
 was tired, and we now found flies more 
 abundant, though the oldest amongst us 
 assure me, that we must travel further still, 
 over another wide water, into a country 
 where men's faces are of the same colour as 
 my feathers, black and tawny ; but travellers 
 see strange things. When I come to Eng- 
 land again, I will endeavour to find out 
 your village. I hope, for your sake, you 
 may have a mild winter and good lodgings.
 
 POST-OFFICE. 167 
 
 This is all the news worth sending, and I 
 must catch flies for myself now, you know. 
 
 So farewell, 
 for I am in haste *. 
 
 ON HEARING THE CUCKOO AT MIDNIGHT, 
 MAY 1ST, 1822. 
 
 BY CHARLES BLOOMFIELD. 
 
 'TwAs the blush of the spring, vegetation was 
 
 young. 
 And the birds with a maddening ecstasy sung 
 
 * It is much to be wished that the above letter had 
 contained some information on a very curious sub- 
 ject, for I would rather believe the swallow himself, 
 than many tales told of them. It has been said, 
 that instead of flying to southern countries, where 
 they can find food and a congenial climate, they 
 dive into the waters of a bog, and lie in a torpid 
 state, through the winter, round the roots of flags 
 
 and weeds. 
 
 R. Bloomfield.
 
 168 THE BIRD AND INSECTS'' 
 
 To welcome a season so lovely and gay — 
 But a scene the most sweety was the close of 
 May-day. 
 
 For the air was serene, and the moon was out 
 
 bright. 
 And Philomel boldly exerted her might 
 In her swellings and trillings, to rival the sound 
 Of the distant defiance of Nightingales round. 
 
 While the Cuckoo as proudly was heard to 
 
 prolong, 
 Though day-light was over, his own mellow song, 
 And appeared to exult ; and at intervals, too. 
 The Owl in the distance join'd in with " Too- 
 
 whoo." 
 
 Unceasing, unwearied, each, proud of his power. 
 Continued the contest from hour to hourj 
 The Nightingale vaunting — the Owl in reply — 
 
 With the Cuckoo's response — till the moon 
 from the sky 
 
 Was hastening down to the west, and the dawn 
 Was spreading the east ; and the Owl in the 
 morn
 
 POST-OFFICE. 169 
 
 Sat silently winking his eyes at the sight ; 
 And the Nightingale also had bidden "good- 
 night." 
 
 The Cuckooj left solus, continued with glee. 
 His notes of defeat from his favourite tree 3 — 
 At length he departed ; but still as he flew. 
 Was heard his last notes of defiance, " Cuckoo."
 
 APPENDIX.
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 Many erroneous accounts having appeared in 
 print, respecting the melancholy close of poor 
 Bloomfield's days ; I feel it » duty to anticipate 
 future designs so far, as is necessary to remove 
 the wrong impressions thus made, by the following 
 statement of facts. 
 
 The health of Mr. Bloorafield, which had always 
 been delicate, declined rapidly through the last 
 five years of his life. His general debility was 
 aggravated by very painful and almost constant 
 head-achs, which nearly deprived him of sight. 
 
 He had made several ineffectual attempts to 
 place some of his children in situations where they 
 could maintain themselves ; but owing in part to 
 their ill health, and in part to a constitutional 
 timidity, which seems to characterise the whole 
 family of the Bloomfields, he succeeded with 
 only one. 
 
 During the last nine years, his regular income 
 (exclusive of a few trifling presents) did not aver- 
 age one hundred pounds per annum, and upon this
 
 174 APPENDIX. 
 
 income, five weakly persons had to subsist, ex- 
 clusive of the youth, mentioned at the end of my 
 preface. 
 
 It cannot, therefore, excite much surprise if this 
 income proved insufficient, or that he was unable 
 to clear accounts with his creditors, as he had for- 
 merly done. This, however, was the most painful 
 circumstance of all, for he had so great a dread of 
 being treated with incivility, as actually to abstain 
 from the exercise necessary to his health, lest in 
 his rambles he might encounter the altered looks, 
 or be annoyed by the importunity of his creditors * . 
 
 In this dilemma he appUed for assistance to 
 a few of his friends t — and those who have tried 
 this experiment, will readily judge with what suc- 
 cess :— some noble exceptions, however, there were 
 to the general rule ; to whom full justice shall be 
 done in due time, and place. 
 
 At length, as a last resource, he resolved to sell 
 his cottage at Honington, the paternal estate in 
 which he was born, and endeared to the whole 
 
 * It is proper to add, that his creditors in general behaved with 
 kindness, and with great respect to his feeUngs. Ed. 
 
 + 1 have reason to believe that had Bloomfield's extremity been 
 fully known to his friends, many among them would have been 
 glad to extricate him ; but having met with one or two rebuffs, the 
 dignity of conscious merit became alarmed, and not wishing to 
 incur obUgations which would fall short of complete extrication— 
 and relying on the produce of a work he had in hand, he omitted 
 to make this appeal where, perhaps, it would have been most 
 availing.
 
 APPENDIX. 175 
 
 family by many a tender recollection. The sale 
 was effected ; but certain objections arising on the 
 part of the purchaser, as to the validity of the title, 
 he found himself involved in new vexations, and 
 in point of fact, never received one sixpence of the 
 money. 
 
 These accumulating misfortunes, at length de- 
 pressed his spirits so much, that about six months 
 before his death, he began to complain of great 
 confusion of memory, and felt as if his understand- 
 ing was entangled. He actually wrote to Bury 
 to certify himself as to the existence of his brother 
 George ; of which fact he could not be satisfied 
 by any other means. 
 
 About three weeks before his death, this hallu- 
 cination had so much increased, as to leave but 
 few intervals of perfect recollection. He was not, 
 however, " for years," nor even at all, in such a 
 state as to " render his death consolatory to his 
 connexions," as some have unkindly affirmed. This 
 event, on the contrary, is in every way a most ca- 
 lamitous circumstance to his family— and to his 
 friends will long remain a subject of inconsolable 
 regret. Mr. Bloomfield died at ShefFord, in Bed- 
 fordshire, on Tuesday August 19th, 1823, in the 
 57th year of his age. 
 
 The following extracts of correspondence, will 
 explain some other matters which may interest 
 the public in favour of the family.
 
 176 APPENDIX. 
 
 MISS BLOOMFIELD TO MR. WESTON. 
 
 Shefford, Jan. 6, 1824. 
 
 DEAR SIR, 
 
 If you are not still at Windsor, I am doubtful 
 whether this may reach you, otherwise I should 
 trouble you with a much longer letter ; and, if I 
 had not since my reply to Miss Weston, been mis- 
 led by a report, that you were coming to spend 
 Christmas with your friends, I should have written 
 again, while I might have been sure of finding 
 you at Windsor. Having obtained your address, 
 my'purpose in writing now, is, to request a reply 
 to this, and (if you have leisure) attention to what 
 I mean to say immediately on receiving your reply. 
 It will be, as you already suppose, all about matters 
 which concern ourselves, on which I feel your 
 opinion will be valuable. I will not apologize to 
 you for the trouble I give, because I believe your 
 friendship for my father will make you think 
 lightly of that, and because I trust you will be- 
 lieve, that I would try to avoid giving more than 
 was necessary. W\i\\ my love to Miss Weston, 
 and best wishes for the happiness of both, 
 I remain yours, 
 
 Hannah Bloomfield. 
 
 To Mr. Weston, 
 Windsor.
 
 APPENDIX. 177 
 
 MR. WESTON TO MISS BLOOMFIELD. 
 
 Windsor, Jan. 15, 1824. 
 
 DEAR MISS BLOOMFIELD, 
 
 I am extremely sorry you did not let me know 
 your wishes, when you wrote last, as I was then 
 fully prepared for a journey to Shefford ; and it 
 would have given me great pleasure to assist you, 
 as far as lay in my power : but having concluded 
 from your last letter that you did not need my as- 
 sistance, I have made arrangements for going im- 
 mediately down to the southern coast, and pro- 
 ceeding by the western into Scotland ; which ar- 
 rangements, I cannot alter, without more incon- 
 venience to myself, than any counsel I could 
 give, is likely to be serviceable to you. If, how- 
 ever, the matters to which you allude, can be safely 
 trusted in a letter, either now or henceforth, they 
 will at all times have my best and most serious 
 attention. 
 
 If you think it useful to write to me, within a 
 fortnight from the present date, direct to me at 
 the post-office, Portsmouth. Wishing you health 
 and happiness, I remain 
 
 Your humble servant, 
 
 Joseph "Weston. 
 
 To Miss Bloomfield, 
 Shefford. 
 
 VOL. II. N
 
 178 APPENDIX. 
 
 MISS WESTON TO MISS BLOOMFIELD. 
 
 New Inn, Ventnor, Isle of Wight, 
 Feb. 23, 1824. 
 
 MY DEAR MISS BLOOMFIELD, 
 
 Before I begin to gossip, allow me to discharge 
 a commission of my brother's. He desires me to 
 inform you that he has received no letter from you 
 since the one dated January 6th, addressed to him 
 at Windsor; that it is his intention to be in 
 London about the end of March, and if he can 
 render you any service in London, or at Shefford, 
 he will be very happy to do so. If you think he 
 can assist you in any way, it will be necessary for 
 you to write immediately, as we leave this place 
 the beginning of next week. In the mean time, 
 he hopes you will forward the business as much 
 as lies in your power, should it be of a nature to 
 admit of preparation. 
 
 Yours truly, 
 
 Sarah Weston. 
 
 To Miss Bloomfield, 
 
 Shefford.
 
 APPENDIX. 179 
 
 MISS BLOOMFIELB TO MISS WESTON. 
 
 She ford, March S, 1824. 
 
 MYJDEAR MISS WESTON, 
 
 Your most welcome, friendly letter, I received on 
 the 26th ult., but have not been able to reply till 
 now. 1 had severely censured myself for having 
 foolishly lost the council of your brother, and per- 
 haps offended both him and you by my conduct ; 
 which (though far from being felt by me) might, 
 I feared, be misconstrued into indifference to his 
 advice, and I much doubted whether I should hear 
 any more from you, at least, for many months. 
 This painful state of feehngwas instantly relieved 
 on seeing a Westonian hand- writing * * * * 
 * * • But now for our perplexing concerns. 
 I have had an intention of going to London 
 shortly, to consult what friends I might find, on 
 what is best to be done. I now think of being 
 there in a fortnight — to stay a fortnight — and I 
 regard as a smile which fortune has been rather 
 sparing of, the chance I shall have of seeing Mr. 
 Weston there ; when, from what I shall have to 
 say, and from what I shall now endeavour to say, 
 he may perhaps be able to judge whether he can 
 render us any service by coming to Shefford, as he 
 again kindly offers to do. I am afraid he is not 
 prepared to find matters so cloudy as they are with 
 
 N 2
 
 180 APPENDIX. 
 
 US. The booksellers' calculations are, I fear, in- 
 correct — that is, they are too favourable respecting 
 our future income. From an examination of their 
 accounts delivered to my father for nine years 
 past, our average income from their sales has not 
 reached 60/. a year. 
 
 There is now not the shghtest ground for hoping 
 we ever shall obtain, a farthing from the cottage 
 at Honington. The utmost value, I fear, of our 
 household property and books, is not above 70/. ; 
 and the gross amount of debts to nearly the present 
 time, is rather more than 200/. Our booksellers, 
 Messrs. Baldwin and Co. have been so kind as to 
 advance 50/. which anticipates nearly a year's in- 
 come. Out of this sum we have made some pay- 
 ments [in which it seems we have done wrong^ 
 but we have been, and still are unavoidably in- 
 creasing our own debts. This being the case, it is 
 a question whether we can pay the debts, and start 
 to get a living without selling the half copyright. 
 1 have not room, or I would send a statement of 
 the whole puzzle. 
 
 Yours affectionately, 
 
 Hannah Bloomfield.
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 181 
 
 MISS WESTON TO MISS BLOOMFIELD. 
 
 West Cowes, March 10, 1824. 
 
 MY DEAR MISS BLOOMFIELD, 
 
 I received your letter in answer to mine yester- 
 day the 9th inst. It gave me great pleasure to 
 hear of your own health, and that of the rest of the 
 family. I sincerely hope that the clouds which 
 have so long hung over you will shortly clear 
 away, and open brighter prospects on you all. 
 You will excuse me. — I am still a woman of bu- 
 siness, and must despatch what I am charged with 
 first, that the useful part of my letter may be ready 
 for post, happen what may. If, after that, I have 
 time to gossip with you, even on paper, it will be 
 a renewal of my enjoyments : but I hope, ere long, 
 we shall be tete-a-tete. My brother requests me 
 to assure you, that he was not at all oflfended that 
 you did not follow his counsel ; though he still 
 thinks it is to be regretted that you did not, for 
 he is persuaded that on many accounts the cre- 
 ditors would have agreed to an arrangement, which 
 might have saved the half-copyrights ; an object 
 highly desirable for the family. He says that if you 
 can conveniently remain in London till the 6th or 
 8th of April, he will see you there, and meet Mr. 
 B , if you think it useful to do so. If this ar-
 
 182 APPENDIX. 
 
 rangement meets your approbation, he wishes you 
 to bring to town, all his letters to you, on the pre- 
 sent subject, as they contain particulars which 
 have escaped his memory, and which would be 
 useful to refer to. He also wishes you to write 
 to Mr. Bristow, Park-street, Windsor, and say 
 to him what you will do, and when you will be in 
 town, and whether you can remain there till the 
 
 time proposed, and whether Mr. B is a London 
 
 gentleman, and easily met with. My brother is in 
 constant correspondence with Mr. Bristow, and he 
 will forward the contents of your letter to us. We 
 shall now change our abode so often, that it would 
 be a restraint on- our movements to direct you to 
 write to us. 
 
 Believe me to remain yours sincerely, 
 
 Sarah Weston. 
 
 MR. WESTON TO MISS BLOOMFIfiLD. 
 
 Windsor, April 10, 1824. 
 
 DEAR MISS BLOOMFIELD, 
 
 On my return yesterday I called at Messrs. 
 Baldwin's and Co., but as the principals had all
 
 APPENDIX. 183 
 
 left the warehouse, I could not obtain the desired 
 interview. 
 
 I have therefore addressed the enclosed letter to 
 Mr. Baldwin, for the purpose of explaining the 
 objects I mentioned to you, and which, if you 
 think proper, you can show to Mr. B., or any other 
 friend whose opinion you value, previous to send- 
 ing it to Mr. Baldwin. 
 
 I must again repeat to you, that your following 
 my advice with respect to these arrangements, in- 
 volves the necessity of depending exclusively on 
 your own personal exertions for support during 
 the next two years ; as by these arrangements, the 
 income derivable from your booksellers will be 
 anticipated for that period at least ; but that this 
 appears to me the only way of saving the half-copy- 
 rights for the future benefit of the family, and that 
 the attainment of this object may exempt you 
 from tlie penalty of suffering privations for many 
 years, instead of only a few. 
 
 Mrs. Bloomfi eld's entire concurrence will of 
 course be required, in writing, previous to any ac- 
 tual proceedings. 
 
 A^^Tien these preliminaries are settled, I shall be 
 glad to hear from you on the subject. 
 
 Perhaps it would be better if you carried ray 
 letter to Mr, Baldwin yourself — you could then 
 learn his opinion on the subject ; and obtain from
 
 184 APPENDIX. 
 
 him any explanations of whicli you stand in need. 
 Mr. Harvey, also, in the firm of Darton and Har- 
 vey, would be a useful person to consult, if you 
 think it desirable. 
 
 After all, I must beg to add, that though the 
 advice I have given is the best I am able to give, 
 it will in no degree offend me, should you prefer 
 your own opinion, or that of any other friend to 
 the family, as I only wish to see you all placed in 
 the most comfortable condition which your present 
 circumstances will allow. My sister joins me 
 in kind wishes. 
 
 Dear Miss Bloomfield, 
 
 Yours, &c. 
 
 Joseph Weston. 
 
 P. S. I have read Mr. B.'s letter attentively. If 
 I comprehend his meaning, I think the view he 
 has taken of your affairs both incorrect and gloomy. 
 I think also, you ought to consider well, and obtain 
 the best advice you can get, before you consent to 
 sacrifice the half-copyrights for temporary ad- 
 vantages. , 
 
 I will return Mr. B.'s letter Avhen I vrrite next.
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 185 
 
 MISS BLOOMFIELD TO MR. WESTON. 
 
 12, Providence-row, Finsburij -square, 
 April 17, 1824. 
 
 DEAR SIR, 
 
 I received your letter last Monday, and carried 
 to the booksellers that addressed to Mr. Bald- 
 win, but was not fortunate enough to find him at 
 home. I trust you have by this time had a reply 
 from him, and I feel very anxious to know its com- 
 plexion. I took a copy of yours (to Mr. Baldwin), 
 and sent it to my mother, and, besides, explained as 
 well as I could the nature of the advice you have 
 given. I received from her the enclosed, contain- 
 ing also Mr. Inskip's concurrence. I don't know 
 whether the accounts of Messrs. Baldwin and Co. 
 may be any way useful to you, to examine at your 
 leisure ; but I felt sorry, after you were gone, that 
 you did not take them with you. I therefore send 
 them, and also three letters relative to the cottage 
 at Honington ;— that from Mr. Golding (the at- 
 torney employed by the purchaser) is the one to 
 which Mr. Inskip has alluded, which is the best 
 reason I have for sending them, for it seems a 
 useless intrusion to worry our friends on so hope- 
 less a subject. The question about the Biography 
 which Mr. Inskip asks will be unintelligible, with-
 
 186 APPENDIX. 
 
 out my saying, that if you had been likely to be 
 stationary and at leisure, I had an intention of 
 asking you to become Biographer, in case you 
 found (on examination) sufficient materials for the 
 purpose. I have not consulted Mr. Harvey ; per- 
 haps Mr. Baldwin's reply will enable you to judge 
 whether it will be desirable or useful. I omitted 
 to tell you that I had written to Mr. Park for his 
 advice and opinion, as to the propriety of parting 
 with the half-copyrights ; — and the value of them. 
 I briefly described the circumstances in which we 
 are placed ; he returned the answer which I here 
 send. I trouble you with all these papers not 
 because I think them very important, but that I 
 think you ought to know what has been done, or 
 omitted. I am quite aware of the necessity for 
 om- (for my) personal exertion for our future 
 support, and am resolved to try my utmost, when 
 once clear of Shefford, and would do so, if the 
 necessity was not so urgent ; but, till we are clear, 
 I cannot give proof of my sincerity. I shall wait 
 anxiously for your next. Pray remember me 
 kindly to Miss Weston, and believe me, 
 Dear Sir, yours truly, 
 
 Hannah Bloomfield. 
 
 P. S. I think I have before infonned you, that 
 my father has repeatedly expressed a wish that
 
 APPENDIX. 187 
 
 either Mr. Park or yourself would write his Biogra- 
 phy, if it should ever be required. I asked ^Ir. 
 Park, who declined it, as being already engaged 
 in a similar employment, and recommended an 
 application to Mr. Southey, or Mr. Rogers. We 
 declined asking either of those gentlemen, sup- 
 posing them to be so engaged in more important 
 concerns as not to be likely to undertake it. 
 
 MR. WESTON TO MISS BLOOMFIELD. 
 
 Windsor, April 18, 1824. 
 
 DEAR MISS BLOOMFIELD, 
 
 I write in reply to yours of yesterday, rather 
 prematurely, for the purpose of informing you 
 that I have not yet heard from Mr. Baldwin, and 
 that I think you would do well to call on him ; 
 and either press him to write to me, or else to in- 
 form you whether he is willing to accommodate 
 the family, in the way I proposed, or not. It really 
 appears to me, the only way in which any friend 
 can render you essential service; but of course 
 the co-operation of Messrs. Baldwin and Co. is 
 necessary. If that can be obtained, I shall feel 
 happy to do the best I can : I only wish to bring 
 the matter to as early an issue as possible. In the
 
 1 88 APPENDIX. 
 
 mean time, I am glad you have sent me the Book- 
 seller's account. On careful examination, it seems 
 to me that Mr. Baldwin on one side, and your 
 friend Mr. B. on the other, have erred in nearly 
 equal degrees. 
 
 With respect to the cottage, it is impossible to 
 form an opinion without more information than is 
 contained in the letters. If the title is imperfect, 
 the purchaser will of course delay ; and if urged 
 to give up the purchase, will also, of course, require 
 full indemnity for all the expenses he has in- 
 curred. Above all things avoid going to law. It 
 will in my opinion be better to leave it to the de- 
 cision of your creditors, or to the operation of time. 
 
 As to the memoir, I feel flattered by the opinion 
 you express ; but I really fear the latter events of 
 Mr. Bloomfield's life are not of a nature to inter- 
 est the public sufficiently to answer p\iblication. 
 However, I have no objection to examine your 
 documents, and say what I think on the subject ; 
 and then we can talk it over. I wish you to exa- 
 mine the credit side of the account I have sent, 
 carefully, so as to be satisfied that every thing is 
 accounted for, and that I myself have committed 
 no mistakes. 
 
 Yours, &c. 
 
 Joseph Weston.
 
 APPENDIX. 189 
 
 I will return the documents after more exa- 
 mination. 
 
 MR. WESTON TO MR. BALDWIN. 
 
 73, Peascod-street, Windsor, April \0, 1824. 
 
 SIR, 
 
 Some months ago I called on you, at the request 
 of the family of the late Mr. Robert Bloomfield, 
 for the purpose of learning the state of their ac- 
 counts with your firm. 
 
 At that time, it was difficult to ascertain the ge- 
 neral situation of their affairs, which, upon, sub- 
 sequent inquiry, turn out to be considerably em- 
 barrassed. As I happen to be personally ac- 
 quainted with most of their creditors, I think I 
 may have influence enough with a great majority, 
 to induce them to accept a moderate composition 
 in discharge of their several claims, provided any 
 part of the Bloomfields' property, remaining in 
 your hands, can be rendered immediateli/ available 
 to that purpose. My present object, therefore, is, 
 to request you will be so good as to inform me, 
 whether you are willing to advance the sum of 
 one hundred pounds, in anticipation of the pay- 
 ments, which the family may expect from that
 
 190 APPENDIX. 
 
 source — and if not, whether the same sum can be 
 raised by premature sale of part of the said pro- 
 perty, within one month from the present date. 
 By such arrangements, I think the half-copyrights 
 may be preserved to the family, which, being their 
 only resource, is an object very desirable. 
 
 If it is not giving you too much trouble, I 
 should feel obliged if you will inform me, what has 
 been the clear total amount, which Mr. Bloom- 
 field and his family have derived from their pro- 
 perty in your possession, from first to last. 
 
 There is a difference of opinion on4;hese points, 
 between myself and other friends of the family, 
 (who have examined your accounts) which you 
 only can determine. 
 
 I take the liberty of begging an early answer, 
 because other objects will soon require my pre- 
 sence in a distant part of the country. Apologising 
 for this trouble, 
 
 I have the honour to be. Sir, 
 your obedient servant, 
 
 Joseph Weston. 
 
 To R. Baldwin, Esq. 
 
 London.
 
 APPENDIX. 191 
 
 MR. BALDWIN TO MR. WESTON. 
 
 London, April 20, 1824. 
 
 SIR, 
 
 I am sorry that overwhelming calls upon my 
 time have prevented me from earlier replying to 
 your letter, which^^however, was left here only a 
 few days ago. # « * , 
 
 In January last we paid Mrs. Bloomfield fifty 
 pounds on account, though the balance due to us 
 is not even yet liquidated by the sale ; and conse- 
 quently nothing more can be expected during the 
 present year. I should be very sorry that any sa- 
 crifice were made of the existing property for the 
 sake of raising a given sum for the creditors ; and 
 by law, the creditors have no demand on the 
 estate, till a year has expired after the decease of 
 the author. Even when that time should arrive, 
 they would not be able very well to avail them- 
 selves of it ; because, until our debt is fully li- 
 quidated, we could withhold it from them. Un- 
 der these circumstances, I should think they would 
 readily accept of a reasonable composition ; and 
 we would gladly promote such a result, by at once 
 giving our promissory note at twelve months for 
 one hundred pounds on the credit of the returns
 
 192 APPENDIX. 
 
 forthcoming. If you can persuade them to do 
 this, no sacrifice would be made ; but the family 
 must be prepared to wait a considerable time, be- 
 fore any thing more would accrue to them. 
 I remain. Sir, 
 
 Yours, &c. 
 
 Robert Baldwin. 
 
 MISS BLOOMFIELn TO MR. C. BLOOMFIELD. 
 
 (Extract.) 
 24, Providence Row, June 23. 
 
 MY DEAR CHARLES, 
 
 You are aware, from my former letters, that 
 Messrs. Baldwin and Co. were so kind as to advance 
 a bill for one hundred pounds at twelve months, to 
 enable us to come to some settlement with our 
 creditors, and that Mr.' Weston induced them to ac- 
 cept a composition of seven shillings in the pound *, 
 
 * The Editor of this work, having been generally blamed, 
 (as a friend of the family) for not advising them to remove 
 their little property to London for sale, begs leave to assign the 
 following reasons for the advice which he gave: 
 
 1st, The inconsiderable value of the whole property, which,
 
 APPENDIX. 193 
 
 promising to divide amongst them the proceeds 
 from the sale of the cottage at Honington, though 
 the delay which had hitherto existed made this 
 a forlorn hope. This arrangement relieved us 
 from some anxiety for our personal safety ; and 
 we sold our little property (books and furniture), 
 to enable us to come to London to seek our living. 
 Still, we did not consider ourselves out of debt ; 
 and the settlement for the cottage being still de- 
 layed, f^e left ShefFord with a detennination to pay 
 them whenever it might be in our power, and a 
 
 according to the best estimates, did not exceed seventy pounds, 
 including every thing. 
 
 2d, The difficulty of proving in London that the articles 
 vfere genuine, i. e. that they were actually the property of the 
 deceased. 
 
 3d, The general uncertainly of sales in London, and the 
 certain expense of conveyance thither. 
 
 4th, The propriety of convincing the creditors (who had 
 agreed, conditionally, to take a moderate composition) that 
 the whole property was really offered for sale. 
 
 5 th, To afford the creditors themselves an opportunity of 
 preventing any article from being sold for less than its value. 
 
 6th, The inconvenience it would have been to the Editor to 
 superintend the sale in London ; and at the same time arrange 
 the writings of the deceased, and settle his affairs in the 
 country. 
 
 7th, His reliance on' public sympathy and benevolence to 
 supply for the family the imperfections of his own arrange- 
 ments. 
 
 VOL. II. O
 
 194 APPENDIX. 
 
 hope that it might be soon. This you already 
 know ; and I have now the pleasure of informins; 
 you, that we have obtained seventy pounds for the 
 cottage, and Mr. VFeston sent it to Shefford yes- 
 terday, making up the whole amount from the 
 produce of our sale ; so that we are now com- 
 pletely free from debt, and have somewhere about 
 forty pounds to divide amongst five of us for two 
 years. But who of our family does not agree with 
 Mr. '^^''eston, that the unspotted character which 
 our dear father maintained should remain un- 
 blemished by his family ? which could not have 
 been, had we suffered his creditors to lose any part 
 of their debts while it was possible for us to pay 
 them. Let me hear from you soon. 
 
 Your affectionate sister, 
 
 HaniVah Bloomfiei.d. 
 
 P. S. Our friends, or rather the friends of our 
 father, have instituted a subscription for our be- 
 nefit, which Mr. Weston thinks has commenced 
 auspiciously; but you must be aware that this is a 
 very unceriain resource ; but be its produce what 
 it may, I hope, with the aid of our own exertions^ 
 we shall make it do.
 
 APPENDIX. ' 195 
 
 MR. WESTON TO MR. G. BLOOMFIELD. 
 
 Shefvrd, June 5, 1824.. 
 SIRj 
 
 It was the wish of your late brother, Mr. Robert 
 Bloomfield, my much lamented friend, that I 
 should prepare the materials for a sketch or memoir 
 of his life, should such be thought useful, and 
 publish such parts of his correspondence and other 
 papers as I might deem fit for the purpose. These, 
 with a preface, and a few tributary verses to 
 his memory, will compose two moderate-sized 
 volumes, and will serve to complete what may pro- 
 perly be called his works. They have received 
 the approbation of Mr. Park, and 1 shall now send 
 them to the booksellers for theirs. In the pre- 
 face I have thought it my duty to notice the cow- 
 ardly attack made on your brother's character and 
 writings, in the Monthly Magazine for September 
 1823, and have Little doubt of making the libeller 
 either look very silly or retract his slander. I 
 wish, however, to march on solid ground ; and the 
 only tender place I as yet apprehend, is contained 
 in that sentence of Robert's letter to you, where he 
 says — " I took the manuscript of the Farmer's 
 Boy to your Magazine Man" without saying who 
 
 o2
 
 196 APPENDIX. 
 
 this man was. If your memory serves, I will thank 
 you to inform me what Magazine it was to which 
 your brother alludes, and who was at that time 
 the editor of it ; and whether you have any reason 
 for thinking that the person who wrote the libel 
 above alluded to can possibly be the same ; or if 
 you are quite sure it must be some other person ; 
 for if the latter be the case, 1 have other evidence to 
 prove that nearly the whole is a collection of wilful 
 misrepresentations, the exposure of which may 
 tend to place the reputation of your brother, and 
 that of his traducer, in their proper light. 
 
 It is my present intention to blend the account 
 of your brother's early life, published in the stereo- 
 type edition, with certain historical memoranda 
 which he has left in considerable abundance, to- 
 gether with his correspondence, and such authentic 
 anecdotes as I can collect among his friends and 
 acquaintance, into a Biographical Sketch, and per- 
 haps leave the composition and style to some abler 
 pen. I hope, however, in my ministerial office to 
 do impartial justice to a man whose talents I ad- 
 mired, whose virtues I venerate, and whose un- 
 timely death I shall always deplore. I foresee, 
 however, that it must be a cloudy concern — per- 
 haps you will allow me to enliven the detail now 
 and then with an extract from your poetry, which 
 I think is often excellent, and abounds in your
 
 APPENDIX. 197 
 
 letters. I beg to add, that any anecdotes or other 
 communications from you will always be received 
 with thankfulness. I shall remain here until the 
 12th, but a letter at any time addressed for me to 
 Mr. Bristow, Park-street, Windsor, will be sure 
 to reach me safely. 
 
 I remain, sir, 
 
 Your humble servant, 
 
 Joseph Westotj. 
 
 It is very extraordinary that we can get no in- 
 telligence either from Mr. Lockwood or Mr. Way- 
 man as to the cottage business. It would save 
 great trouble and expense if they would conclude 
 it while I am here, having induced the creditors 
 to accept a moderate composition, under the pro- 
 mise that the proceeds of this estate should be 
 added — for the performance of which I consider 
 my honour and credit both pledged. At any rate 
 I should like to know how the matter stands, and 
 if it is not giving you too much trouble, should 
 feel much obliged if you would urge Mr. Lock- 
 wood to send such information.
 
 198 APPENDIX. 
 
 MY DEAR UNCLE, 
 
 This little space will serve to tell you we are all 
 well, and that is as much as I have to say now, 
 except that we hope you are. 
 
 Your affectionate niece, 
 Hannah Bloomfielb. 
 
 MR. GEORGE BLOOMFIELD TO MR. WESTON. 
 
 Bury St. Edmunds, June 9, 1824. 
 
 SIR, 
 
 I beg leave to say 1 received your letter, dated 
 Shefford, June 5th. The magazine man men- 
 tioned by my brother Robert, was Mr. W. Bent, 
 successor to S. A. Cumberlege, at the King's 
 Arras, Paternoster-row, London; but who was 
 the editor of the magazine, 1 am ignorant. Mr. 
 Bent was the publisher. His was the Universal 
 Magazine ; I read it more than twenty years. Mr. 
 Bent kept the MS. a week or two, and sent it 
 back to my brother by a grave book-faced looking 
 man, who said it did not suit Mr. Bent, &c. My 
 brother offered it to Mr. Lane, the great wholesale 
 novel manufacturer. He returned it almost im- 
 mediately with a note of two lines, to say, it was 
 not in his line. My brother afterwards left it 
 with Mr. Dilly, in the Poultry. Mr. Dilly, when 
 my brother afterwards called for the MS. said.
 
 APPENDIX. 199 
 
 it wanted revisal, &c. IVIy brother then sent it 
 to me here, at Bury, and it was on my own peti- 
 tion, without my brother's knowledge, that Mr. 
 LofFt took it under his patronage. But I have 
 lived near seventy years in the woi-ld, and have 
 seen enough of mankind to know, that the wretch 
 who has once vouched a falsehood, will invent fifty 
 more to make it good. Still, however, Mr. LofFt * 
 is yet living, and will certainly prove he had no 
 letter of recommendation. But then the calum- 
 niator may still say he gave my brother such letter. 
 Should he do this— though I would stake my sal- 
 vation on its being false — how could it be dis- 
 proved } The coward staid till the death of poor 
 Robert ere he dared make his attack. O, sir, if 
 you could conceive how it hurt my mind when I 
 read the statement in the Monthly Magazine for 
 
 September, 1823! 
 
 The tale is told as if my brother's misfortunes 
 arose from his talents— as if his success had done 
 no good— C. Bloomfield, Esq. did not know there 
 was such a man as me in existence till Robert's 
 success brought me to his knowledge on Robert's 
 account— for whose sake he, Mr. B., took me and 
 mine into his protection. His great benevolence 
 
 • The account of tliis gentleman's death had not then ar- 
 rived.
 
 200 APPEXDIX. 
 
 and charity have conferred favom-s on me it would 
 fill a sheet to detail, and at this moment his 
 l)ounty nearly feeds me; but for Robert's success 
 I should have been unknown to this gentleman, 
 and, consequently, must have wanted bread, or 
 have been in a workhouse. And poor brother 
 Isaac, who was in his youth a gay lad, and on a 
 footing with the young farmers of the village, 
 must, when weighed down with a family of nine 
 children, have trembled at a vestry to those he 
 once deemed his equals. But Robert took him 
 up, and was his true friend— took him and his 
 family to London, and placed them in a shop. 
 The scheme failed — he sent them down again — 
 gave them the rent in the cottage for twenty years, 
 clothed the boys, &c. The rent alone must have 
 been sixty pounds. My brother Nat, I doubt 
 not, had often his assistance. Nat had thirteen 
 or fourteen children. All the comforts myself 
 and brothers enjoyed, evidently sprung from the 
 success of Robert. This sneaking assassin with- 
 out a name, who wrote the article for the Monthly 
 Magazine for September, 1823, keeps all this po- 
 sitive good — these real blessings out of sight— and 
 tells us how happy Robert might have been had 
 he continued to be a journeyman shoemaker. Even 
 here he acts with cruel duplicity. He does not 
 tell his readers that Robert was for the last
 
 APPENDIX. ^01 
 
 twenty years seldom capable of bodily labour. 
 He leaves the reader to think he was a man capa- 
 ble of hard exertion — whereas, the reverse was 
 the case ; the suppression of truth is, in this case, 
 as much a calumny as the fabrication of falsehood. 
 
 While his resources lasted, Robert was always 
 ready to frove In/ his conduct that he acted to 
 others as he would have wished them to have 
 acted towards him had they been in his place 
 and he in theirs. Here it may be objected, how 
 came he to get into debt ? He certainly, while 
 his income was good, had not that cold, prudential 
 caution which men of the world possess. I am 
 willing to admit with that calumniator, his am- 
 bition was disappointed. It would have been his 
 ambition to keep Isaac's family from the parish ; 
 to keep his brother Nat from trouble, &c. &c. 
 This he could not do. But to read the article in 
 the Monthly Magazine, the reader might be led 
 to think that he was ambitious of aping the man 
 of "pecuniary independence, S)C." 
 
 The only luxury I ever knew him indulge 
 in, was a Cockney garden ; and here he was 
 more to be pitied than blamed. He staid some 
 time after he came into money in his old lodgings 
 in Mulberry-court, till he was literally hunted out 
 of it. Persons of consideration, who came in great 
 numbers to see him, complained of the place being 
 disagreeable. Mr. Peter Gedge, the printer, called
 
 202 APPENDIX. 
 
 on him — gave him half-a-giiinea^ and advised him 
 to get into a better situation. Robert then hired 
 a respectable lodging in Short-street, Moortields. 
 His landlord piit the key under the door in the 
 night, and left Robert to pay 91. rent to the 
 proprietor of the' house, or lose his goods. He 
 then hired a very small house near the Shepherd 
 and Shepherdess, in the City Road. Here he had, 
 what was certainly, a large Cockney garden ! When 
 his income became reduced, he retired to Shef- 
 ford, where his rent, &c. was comparatively small. 
 He never kept a servant, or a horse, as many a 
 one would have done. His whole conduct in pros- 
 perity proved his fraternal love, his filial affection, 
 and his readiness to assist to the utmost of his 
 power those who applied to him. Those who 
 knew him best will wonder how a man so inoffen- 
 sive and unobtrusive can be charged with am- 
 bition, liut the writer of the article above alluded 
 to, says by inft'7-eiice, that the poor man of talents 
 should not dare to enter the fields of literature, 
 but leave them to the men of " pecuniary inde- 
 jiendence." 
 
 I hope, sir, you will not tire in the glorious 
 work you have begun. You cannot please every 
 body — you cannot produce a perfect book : 
 
 " Whoever thinks a faultless piece to see. 
 Thinks what ue'er was, nor is, nor e'er shall be."
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 203 
 
 But to endeavour to rescue the character of him 
 who is not here to defend himself, is, I repeat it, 
 a glorious task, and all the wise and good will ap- 
 plaud the design, whatever impediments the in- 
 terested and the wicked, may throw in your way. 
 Your humble servant, 
 
 G. Bloomfiei.d. 
 
 To Mr. Weston, 
 ShefFord. 
 
 MR. WESTON TO MR. GEORGE BLOOMFIELD. 
 
 21, Providence-row, Finsbury-squar'c, 
 London, June 20, 1824. 
 
 SIR, 
 
 I shall feel obliged if you will return a copy of 
 the letter I wrote to you about June 3th, as 1 shall 
 perhaps find occasion to print it, together with 
 your excellent reply. 
 
 At the same time, please to inform me in plain, 
 distinct terms, whether you ever heard your bro- 
 ther Robert express any resentment against the 
 editor of the Monthly Magazine, for having, as 
 that editor affirms, advised him (Robert) " to stick 
 to his last ;" or did you ever hear him allude to
 
 204 APPENDIX. 
 
 such an admonition, as having been used by the 
 said editor. 
 
 Sir, your obedient servant, 
 
 Joseph Weston. 
 Mr. George Bloom field. 
 Bury. 
 
 MR. GEORGE BLOOMFIELD TO MR. WESTON. 
 
 (Extract.) 
 Bury St. Edviunds, June 26, 1824. 
 
 SIR, 
 
 I thank you for the kind letter I received, dated 
 the 20th. When I wrote to you last, I feared lest 1 
 should tire you with my prolixity, yet I left much 
 unsaid that I think I had a right to state, as my 
 dear brother's character is now to be brought for- 
 ward before the dread tribunal of his fellow 
 mortals. 
 
 I confined myself in ray last to observations 
 which appeared in the article in the Monthly 
 Magazine, for September, 1823; and 1 wish far- 
 ther to observe, that whoever reads it would be 
 led to think my brother was a boorish, headstrong 
 fellow — whereas those who knew him in his youth 
 can witness to his modest unassuming manners ;
 
 APPENDIX. 205 
 
 and I solemnly declare, as I hope for mercy at the 
 great day, I never heard of the tale about " stick- 
 ing to his last" till I read it in the Monthly Ma- 
 gazine. In the days— the happy days that Robert 
 and I spent in free converse, it is impossible for 
 him not, at sometime, to have mentioned it. 
 Yours, &c. 
 
 G. Bloomimei.d. 
 
 Mr. Weston, 
 London. 
 
 MR. WESTON TO MR. INSKIP. 
 
 (Copy.) 
 
 SIR, 
 
 As the old and intimate friend of the late Robert 
 Bloomfield, the poet, I beg to ask you whether, 
 during your long and intimate acquaintance, you 
 ever heard him say 
 
 Firstly. That he actually took his manuscript 
 of the Farmer's Boy to the editor of the Monthly 
 Magazine. 
 
 2ndly. That said editor advised him not to 
 waste his time in writing poetry. 
 
 3rdly. That said editor advised him to consult 
 Mr. Capel LofFt, and gave him a letter of intro- 
 duction to that gentleman.
 
 206 APPENDIX. 
 
 4thly. That said editor advised him " to stick 
 to his last, &c." which last phrase he, Mr. Robert 
 Bloomfield, is accused of having often '' quoted with 
 indignation in the heyday of his subsequent po- 
 pularity!' 
 
 Did you, sir, ever hear him mention these cir- 
 cumstances, or express any resentful feeling at the 
 alleged insult ? 
 
 A short and early reply in very plain terms will 
 oblige, &c. 
 
 Joseph VV^eston. 
 
 Mr. T. Inskip, 
 SheflPord. 
 
 A similar copy sent to Mr. Park, at Hampstead. 
 
 MR. PARK TO MR. WESTON. 
 
 Hatnpstead, June 23, 1824. 
 
 SIR, 
 
 It was out of my power to answer your letter of 
 yesterday, so promptly as you desired, in conse- 
 quence of being away from home. At the distance 
 of tv/enty-four years, I should hesitate to speak 
 very positively as to matters of conversation : but 
 I am relieved from this difficulty by a memoran- 
 dum made at the time, in my own copy of the
 
 APPENDIX. 207 
 
 second edition of the Farmer's Boy, in 1800, which 
 I vdll here transcribe. 
 
 " This poem was first oiFered to Bent, in Pater- 
 noster-row, with a request to know his opinion of 
 its deserts : but this he decHned, in a short note, 
 which was returned to Mr. B. in the course of a 
 week, along with his MS. Dilly was next appUed 
 to, who refused to have any concern in publishing 
 it, but recommended the slighted author to take 
 his production to PhilUps, who probably might 
 print it in the Monthly Magazine. But as the 
 poet foresaw that in case it was accepted for in- 
 sertion he should have to pay five or six shillings 
 for obtaining a copy to send to his mother, which 
 was his pi-ime object, he preferred sending the MS. 
 for her inspection to his brother at Bury, who for- 
 tunately got it conveyed to the eye of Mr. Loff't. 
 Mr. L. was dehghted with its merits, communi- 
 cated it to Mr. Hill, and it was immediately re- 
 commended to Hood for publication." 
 
 With the above memorandum I will extract 
 the following note : 
 
 " To Mr. Loflft's protection and encouragement 
 it was primarily owing that a production so mo- 
 rally and poetically estimable as the Farmer's Boy 
 has struggled into day ; but to the modest author's 
 faithfulness of delineation, felicity of diction.
 
 £08 APPENDIX. 
 
 purity of sentiinenL and refined simplicity of taste, 
 it will stand indebted for ' aye-enduring fame.' " 
 
 I had not heard of J\Ir. Loff t's decease till your 
 announcement of it, and I grieve to hear of it 
 from a variety of considerations. Eight of his 
 letters to me, which chiefly have relation to his 
 jioetical protege, I have looked out, and when oc- 
 casion serves they shall be placed in your hands. 
 I do not remember to have seen the verses en- 
 titled Perplexity, or the essay occasioned by 
 some insurrection in America. 
 
 The subscription papers shall be circulated where 
 I can anticipate any success. 
 
 I cannot decidedly say whether the MS. of the 
 Farmer's Boy was ever taken to the editor of the 
 Monthly JNIagazine ; but I should think that some 
 of the letters which passed between his brothers 
 and himself (a transcript of which I transmitted, 
 with his letters to me) would be likely to settle 
 the question. This I can decidedly say, that I 
 never heard him repeat the sarcasm ascribed to 
 that editor, nor did I ever know him give vent 
 to any resentful feeling against him or any other 
 person. Indeed I verily believe that he had too 
 catholic a benevolence for human kind to allow 
 himself to foster an emotion of resentment toward 
 any human being ; and when he did speak of his 
 
 t
 
 APPENDIX. 209 
 
 early struggles, he spoke of them with much com- 
 placency. Perhaps the rustic anathema, in his 
 " Neighbourly * Resolution," may comprise the 
 amount of his indignant feelings, while in his 
 " First View of the Sea" he breathes a christian 
 supplication for that wisdom which would " teach 
 him to forgive." That we may all be taught to 
 do so, is the hearty prayer of yours, 
 With much sincerity, 
 
 Thomas Park. 
 
 MR. INSKIP TO MR. WESTON. 
 
 Shefford, June 25, 1824. 
 
 DEAR SIR, 
 
 On taxing my recollection respecting the editor 
 of the Monthly Magazine, I have no reason to 
 believe that Mr. Bloomfield was ever personally 
 known to him, because in my long acquaintance 
 with ]VIr. Bloomfield, and my frequent conversa- 
 tions on the fortunes of the Farmer's Boy, I must 
 have been informed of it; moreover, I recollect 
 /t-e^/ talking to Mr. B. on the merits of the Monthly 
 Magazine, which he always highly extolled, and 
 lamented that his poverty would not allow him to 
 
 • " May shadeless labour and sour ale," &c. 
 VOL. II. ^
 
 210 APPENDIX. 
 
 spare half-a-crown a month to take it in^ and 
 learn thereby how the literary world was going 
 on. This does not in the least savour of a hostile 
 feeling on the part of Bloornfield. 
 
 Believe me, truly yours, 
 T. I. 
 
 FROM A LADY. 
 
 June2S, 1824. 
 
 MY DEAR MISS BLOOMFIELD, 
 
 I am almost sorry to hear of your intending to 
 publish his (Mr. B.'s) remains in poetry and 
 prose so soon. I hope you will consult some 
 of your father's most judicious and experienced 
 friends, before you take so important a step. Al- 
 low me to suggest, that all the benefit that can 
 be derived from your father's talents and fame, is 
 now at stake ; and that the means in your hands 
 should be carefully used, lest, by grasping at too 
 much, all should be lost ! — or at least, much be 
 risked, which by a little caution and patience 
 might be rendered more productive. Permit me 
 to call to your mind that some liberal and handsome 
 gifts have recently been made at your sale — that 
 papers are now before the pubUc for raisipg a 
 subscription for your family : — and if, at the same
 
 APPENDIX. 211 
 
 time^ you publish the " Remains" (whether by 
 subscription or not, I cannot tell ; but it comes to 
 the same thing), and hold out an expectation that 
 the life of your father and his correspondence is 
 to follow, I fear you may alarm the public, and 
 prevent even your well-wishers from coming for- 
 ward in the way they might do, if fewer claims 
 were made, and things allowed to succeed each other 
 at intervals. People may part with their money 
 gradually, by little and little ; but when various 
 proposals are made at the same time, it distracts 
 the mind, and if all cannot be complied with, 
 (which is hardly to be expected), a doubt may arise 
 which way to give aid, and perhaps at last nothing 
 be done. Forgive my plainness, and place it to 
 the score of friendship, where indeed it deserves 
 to be. 
 
 Your sincere friend. 
 
 MISS BLOOMFIELD IN REPLY. 
 MADAM, 
 
 I have been so much employed by Mr. Weston 
 during the last week in making extracts from 
 letters and writing out copy for the press, that I 
 fear I have trangressed the rules of strict pro-
 
 2J2 APPENDIX. 
 
 priety in having omitted to reply to your kind 
 letter. Mr. Weston, the friend who has taken the 
 trouble to manage our concerns, has consulted 
 some of my father's best and oldest friends -as to 
 the merits of the work to be published. It has 
 met with their approbation, and will make its ap- 
 pearance now in a few days, and I trust will rather 
 contribute to establish my dear father's fame than 
 to diminish it. 
 
 It was the opinion of our friends near ShefFord, 
 that we ought to avail ourselves of the sympathy 
 which our misfortunes had excited as soon as we 
 decently could, particularly as the first fruits 
 arising from this resource cannot reach us under 
 fourteen or fifteen months, unless we had consented 
 to sacrifice a great part of the advantage (which 
 may arise from the work being sold for our ex- 
 clusive benefit) for the sake of raising a present 
 supply. I am at a loss to know what are the 
 liberal and handsome gifts to which you have al- 
 luded, as having been made at our sale. A gen- 
 tleman, whom it would perhaps be improper to " 
 name, was so kind as to purchase the oak table, 
 which sold for 13/., and presented it as an heir 
 loom to the family. Another gentleman purchased 
 a pewter dish for 1/. Is., which he also presented. 
 Dr. Drake sent spontaneously a subscription raised 
 among his friends at Hadleigh, amounting to
 
 APPENDIX. 213 
 
 13/. 2s. 6d., besides which I do not remember any 
 other favour except the drawings which you, 
 madam, was so kind as to purchase so much above 
 their value. Perhaps you will more readily believe 
 me on this point, when I inform you, that the 
 clear proceeds of our sale amounted only to 82/. ; 
 and that when we had paid our creditors and our 
 expenses to London, we had about 40/. left to 
 divide amongst five of us, to supply our expendi- 
 ture for about two years, as we must wait fuU that 
 time before our bookseller's account becomes re- 
 productive. 
 
 The subscription has been managed by Mr. 
 Rogers, Mr. Park, and Mr, Weston, who have 
 caused circulars to be distributed amongst our 
 friends in all parts of the country, and I am sure 
 it would be much regretted by those gentlemen 
 if this has been done in any way unpleasant to 
 our friends. 
 
 When I mentioned to Mr, Weston what you 
 have observed about the variety of the modes em- 
 ployed to interest the public in our behalf, he re- 
 plied, — some will assist from one motive and some 
 from another; but reflecting minds will in general 
 feel more disposed to help you in proportion as 
 they observe in you a willingness to help yourselves, 
 and to make the most of the little property which 
 is still in your possession.
 
 214 APPENDIX. 
 
 My father's manuscripts were bought in at 
 the sale by ourselves, lest a dispute should arise as 
 to the right of publishing them. 
 
 P. S. I have taken the liberty of reading your 
 letter, and this answer of mine to Mr. Weston. 
 He says it will be of infinite importance to us 
 to have extracts from them, published in the 
 forthcoming work. The reason he assigns is, that 
 others may be influenced by the same opinions 
 which you have expressed, and it is of consequence 
 to us that our friends should not remain under 
 erroneous impressions. 
 
 Mr. Weston has transcribed that part of yours 
 which he thinks available, and marked the cor- 
 responding part of mine. If you are so kind as 
 to comply, I shall feel obliged by an immediate 
 answer, it being the only thing for which we shall 
 have to wait. 
 
 Yours, &c. 
 
 H. Bloomfield. 
 
 Providence Row, July 5, 1824. 
 
 to the reader. 
 
 I have thus far discharged the duty imposed on 
 me with care and fidelity. I trust that good 
 nature and good sense will look on the per-
 
 APPENDIX. 215 
 
 formance with an indulgent eye, not on my ac- 
 count, but for the sake of the injured and the desti- 
 tute. It has been compiled in haste, under ad- 
 verse circumstances (obvious to reflecting minds), 
 from papers and memoranda left in much con- 
 fusion or widely scattered ; some errors may there- 
 fore have escaped unobserved. 
 
 A few of the fragments now offered to the pub- 
 lic have appeared before in newspapers or other 
 periodicals ; but as they had a very limited circu- 
 lation, they must be quite new to readers in ge- 
 neral, and I trust will gratify the public, and serve 
 the distressed family. 
 
 I have still withheld a few, under the hope that 
 when I obtain possession of the promised letters 
 addressed to his Grace the Duke of Grafton, to 
 Mrs. Palmer, Mr. Capel LofFt, and a few more of our 
 author's best and earliest friends, I may find more 
 correct copies of them, in which case they will 
 appear in the " Memoir and Correspondence." 
 
 Those friends of Mr. Bloomfield, who have 
 preserved his original letters, will confer a favour 
 on the editor, and render great service to the fa- 
 mily, by sending them as soon as possible to Miss 
 Bloomfield, No. 12, Providence-row, Finsbury- 
 square, London. 
 
 I beg leave on my own part and on the part of Mr. 
 Bloomfield's family, to return my grateful thanks
 
 216 APPENDIX. 
 
 to those who have in any way co-operated in tliis 
 pleasing duty. To myself, however, belongs the 
 sole responsibility for whatever faults may have 
 been committed. 
 
 I am afraid many will think that in making 
 this selection, I have used my opportunities with 
 too liberal a hand, for which I can only repeat an 
 excuse I have made to Mr. Park, that my respect 
 for Mr. Bloomfield's genius leads me to venerate, 
 not only all he has written, but all he has noticed. 
 
 I have thus far endeavoured to do justice to his 
 writings, and to gratify the taste of his friends ; and 
 I close my task with the cheering assurance — that 
 a grateful and generous nation will very soon do 
 justice to his memory. 
 
 Thousands of persons in affluence, who have de- 
 rived from his poems many of their purest grati- 
 fications, would, I assure myself, esteem it a re- 
 proach to the age — should his family languish in 
 penury after all their previous misfortunes. 
 
 Joseph Weston. 
 
 London, July 7, 1824. 
 
 THE END. 
 
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