^^AUVHail-l^^ o '^/sa]AiNflawv' -v^lLIBRARY/?/^ ^iimmo/: ^ ■ dlFOft^ "^/jaaAiNn 3v\v* ^oahv«3!i-^^ ^Of-CAIIFO/?^ '^^AHVHfllTiS^'^ ^Wr l'MVFf?,r/>. ^10SANCEI% o ^^Ayvaan-^^ so %a3AIN(1-3WV^ ^^^iLIBRARY•^/ -s^l-lIBRARY(?/ %aMINn-3WV^ ^&AavaaiH^ '-^oxmnmi' ^MIBRARYO^ ^■ ^«;,OFCAIIFO/?^ \WfUNIVER% ^JvlUBRARY^/^ ^IIIBRARY6 WSOl^ %a3AlNn-3WV^ ^OJIWD-JO"*^ %ojnvo-jQ THE- •ff'sjBjiSS^ AUTOBIOGEAPHT OF A BEGGAU BOY IN WHICH WILL BE FOUND BELATED THE NUMEROUS TRIALS, HABD STRUGGLES, AND VICISSITUDES OF A STRANGELY CHEQUERED LIFE ; WITH GLIMPSES OF SOCIAL AND POLITICAL HISTORY OVER A PERIOD OF FIFTY YEARS. htrnii ^bition:. LONDON: AVILLIAM TWEEDIE, 3 3 7, S T E A N D. 1856. LosDox : RICHAKD BAURETT, PRINTER, MA UK LANE. Chancery Lane, London, Decemler 28, 1855. Mat it Please Your Majesty. I have presumed to beg your Majesty's acceptance of this little volume, and my only motive in domg so, is, that your Majesty may have an opportunity of learning the struggles and diflficulties which beset the lives of many of your Majesty's subjects, but more particularly that class, who live as it were on the out- skirts of civilization. Should yoiu- Majesty do me the honoxu- of perusing this little eflfoi-t of my attempt at Authorship, it will confer upon me an obligation, I wiU never forget. I remain your Majesty's Vciy humble. But loyal and dutiful subject, THE AUTHOR. Colonel Phipps has received the commands of Her Majesty the Queen, to infonn Mr. , that his book has been received and accepted by Her Majesty. Windsor Castle, Decemler 31, 1855. 1104485 PREFACE. The Author has been induced to publish this little volume, from a consideration that a perusal of the nume- rous trials and hard struggles of his life, may have a tendency to stimulate yoimg men to an endeavour to overcome the obstacles and difficulties which may surround their early positions in the world. This brief history of an eventful and highly chequered career, he thinks, cannot fail to impress upon the youthful reader a lesson of useful import. Men in their daily intercourse have frequent opportunities to study each other's history, but as they cannot keep up the connection in the regular order of events, their narratives necessarily become disjointed. There is also another consideration of still greater impor- tance to the proper understanding of a man's character, which is a knowledge of his motives ! Could we but see the hidden springs which prompt men to action, we should often be less liable to judge harshly of each other's con- duct, and, instead of censuring, find it our duty to praise ! The first division of the book will introduce the Author in the character of a wandering vagrant. It will be seen, that when he was cast upon his own re- sources, he was placed in circumstances of extreme danger, being exposed to the twofold temptations of poverty and bad company. It may be said that he overcame the difficulties of his truly critical position by the energy and determination of his character. The second division will show the reader the mis- directed energies of an uneducated man, whose ambition VI PREFACE. was fettered by the want of early training. In this part of the woi-k the Author has endeavoured to open up the whole volume of his mind, and thereby expose its most secret springs. It will thus be seen that many of his commercial failures have arisen from a pure want of caution, and like many a well-meaning man who has split upon the same rock, instead of looking for the sources of his numerous mishaps in his own want of judgment, he has frequently attributed them to causes which never existed ! The third epoch of the Author's life may be said to have been ruled by a series of conflicting circumstances, over wliich he appeared to have had little or no control ; however, the reader will not fail to observe that the same laudable determination of character which saved him from moral shipwreck in early life, still enabled him to weather the storms of adversity in more advanced years. On tlie whole, the narrative will he found to be a series of natural incidents arising out of their various causes, and the Author has made no attempt either to lioigliten their colour, or enhance their impor- tance. Much of the reflective matter in this volume will be appreciated, or otherwise, according to the pre-conceived opinions of tliose into whose hands it may fall, the Author has only to add, that his notions of men and things, whether right or wrong, have been produced by mucli rubbing witli the world, and in the meantime, they are the honest expressions of his mind. The Author. PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION. The Author embraces this opportunity of making the Second Edition of his little volume, the medium of his sincere and grateful thanks to the members of the Newspaper Press, for the kind manner in which they have stamped it with the seal of their approba- tion. He feels impelled to this the more, by the manner in Avhich the many Literary imperfections of the book have been passed over, and its being accepted as the truthful narrative of a man who lias no pre- tensions to Literary talent. CONTENTS. PAGE. Preface v LETTER I. The Author's first discovery of himself — ^His mother's marriage with a discharged soldier — His first essay in life as a vagrant — Recollections • of Hawick Jail — Grades and dis- tinctions in vagrant life — The hand-barrow beggars of the olden time — The death-struggle in a storm at night on a wild moor — The old soldier's encounter with the devil between Wai-k and Hexham — The night's sojourn on Lam- mer Muir and the mysterious coaches —Reflections upon the debasing sin of intemperance — Joiu-ney to London in 1810 — A residence in St. GUcs's, and ups and downs of life in London 1 LETTER IT. Remarks upon the social and physical changes in London dm-ing the last fifty years — A j oumey to the North w^th a magistrate's pass — Narrow escape fi-om being stabbed by the old soldier while under the influence of drink — A scene of nakedness in the streets of Hexham — Recol- lections of the severe winter of 1813-14— A night in a snow-stonn near Newcastleton — Reflections upon the social habits of the people on the Borders 21 LETTER IIL A new phase in the life of the Author — Herding Nowt at Candrife — The author unfortunately finds his o^ii father and a stejl-mother, to whom he is transfen-cd — The mise- ries of his new home — Obsen'ations upon Irish misinile, and the evils of sectarian antagonism — An unnatural display of selfishness — Early fricndslup — The mishap in a peat moss — The escape from bondage and landing in Portpatrick — The encounter with a heartless, niflian be- tween Castle Douglas and Dumfries— Herding cattle on the sands at Dumfries '. 36 X CONTENTS. LETTER IV. PAGE. A new employer and a second runaway — A sad scene in Annan — A venerable Samaritan and his daughter - Crosses the English Border and arrives at Kielder Castle — Five weeks' sojourn at the castle, and the hosjutality of Mr. Dagg and his familj' — Arrives at the Fading and kind reception from Mr. Richardson's family — the awfid en- counter with a ghost — A few anecdotes of Border smug- glers 51 LETTER V. The author becomes a miller's boy — The unexpected meeting — Tlie author becomes companion to a gentleman, a man of colour — A scene of human depravity — The master is sent to jail, and the servant returns to a life of vagrancy — A journey to Portpa trick, and the author begins the world upon his own account — A full-length portrait of an unmitigated vagabond — The gentleman who accommodated sim})le people ■with bargains — A naiTOW escape from the jaws of Lincoln jail — The struggles of the people 65 LETTER VI. Lord John Russell and Macaulay's Histoiy of England — A journey to Scotland, and finds a second step-father — An essay in the smuggling line— The first attempt at reap- ing — Takes the bounty in tlie Northumberland militia — Stranded on the lec-shore of poverty — Tlie commencement of a very unsentimental journey —Recollections of Old- ham, and a night in Warrington Mendicity Asylum — Pai-ting with a companion in misfortune — Refused by an anny doctor, but accepted by a captain in the navy — A scene in the gan-ison yard in St. John's, Scillj' Islands — The sad isolation of the friendless poor in London — The feast in Barnett— A friendly solicitation in Ijly — The temptation 80 LETTER VII. The first step in the right direction — Made vip for a soldier in a verj' unmilitary fashion — The moral influence of a parliamentary election under the old rcrjime — Recollec- tions of Dublin, in 1828 — Removing of the penal laws in 1829— RecoUections of 1830 104 CONTENTS. XI LETTER VIII. PAGE. The author becomes a political agitator— The Trades' Com- mittee in Glasgow before the passing of the Reform BiU — Acts the part of legislator upon a small scale — Political dishonesty by certain chartist leaders 118 LETTER IX. Went upon a voyage of discoveiy to Greenock — The people's parliament, and the sacred month — The author becomes an expomider of the principles of odd fellowship, and struggles with many difficulties — A short sojourn in Paisley — Good fortune kicks misfortune about her business — Some reminiscences of Perth and its neighbour- hood — The Scotch tavern business and its evil influence — The good results of a seeming reverse in fortune 135 LETTER X. Auld Reekie and its associations — the wonderful effects of social progress — The author's opinion of himself — The consequences of an over sanguine disposition — A short pro- bation in a new business — Anecdotes about large men in a small way — A dark passage 153 LETTER XL Achange for the better followed by another reverse — Remarks upon the chai-acter of social progress 173 LETTER XII. A chapter upon education, and the author's views thereon... 180 CHAPTER. XIII. The last chapter in which the author reviews his own life, in which ho finds nuich to regret, and some small matters of a pleasing character 197 THE AUTOBIOGEAPHY OF A BEGGAR-BOY. LETTER I. Aberdeen, September '2,0th, 1854. My dear Thomas, — I have often thouglit of giving you some account of my early history, I have now made up my mind to do so, in the hope that my numerous trials and difficulties, and the experience of my chequered life, may be of service to you in guiding your steps in the path of duty As a general rule, I take it for granted that the life of a mere working man can be of very little interest to the public. I am sensible that there are exceptions to this rule ; when a man has worked his way from the obscurity of humble life by the force of genius — such, for instance, as some of the early painters and poets : the lives of such men become public property, and we learn by their noble example to persevere if we would conquer. Biography forms the most pleasing part of history. It sets before us the character of such men as may have become eminent for tlieir virtues or notorious for their vices, and it withdraws the veil from their motives to action. By it, too, we learn the motives which led them to aspire to deeds of glory, or the delusions which carried them into the snares of vice. In reading the life of a man, if honestly written, we are placed in a favourable position, whereby we are able not only to observe all his actions, but we can also see the whole machinery of his mind, the workmgs of his various passions, and the strength of the regulating power of his judgment. A man who either writes his own life or has it written for him may be said to be dragged from the crowd of his fellows and placed naked upon an elevation, so th.at all may witness his noble qualities as worthy of imitation, or his defects which are calculated to impress upon us the weakness of human nature. In reading the lives of many of our statesmen, one ■would almost imagine that life was an idle dream and 2 THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY virtue an empty sound. In many instances, men of this class have looked down upon the people as a distinct and separate creation from themselves, worthy of their notice only when they could make use of them foi* their own sordid interest or petty ambition. For my part, I think it would be well for society, if the lives of aU sucli men were comfortab.' y consigned to oblivion. In giving you a history of my life, T will endeavour to furnish a faithful narrative of the whole chain of events which have acted upon me through life up to the present time, keeping in the back-ground only those things which are trivial or otherwise unworthy of notice. It is true that I have never achieved any act worthy of public notice : the relation between my name and fame has been as distantly remote from each other as the poles. But, as a recomj^euse for the want of bold o.dventure, deeds of daring, and nol)le enterprise, you will find much that is worthy of reflection, and, in some cases, my conduct may be found not unworthy of imitation. Like a large number of my own class, I was born in poverty, nursed in sorrow, and reared in difficulties, hardships, and privations. It is only such as have passed through the various sulistrata of civilized society who can jastly appreciate the feelings and sufferings of the thousands who continually live as it were by chance. When we know the numerous petty shifts and dishonest subterfuges which characterize the conduct of a large portion of those members of society whose position ])laces them out of the reach of want, we cannot feel surprised at the dishonest practices of that miserable class of beings who hang upon the outskirts of civilization. The man who can dine is very differently situated to the poor wretch wlio, after he has had one meal of victuals, has no idea where or when he may be blessed with another ! Those members of society who are blessed with a regular supply of food and raiment may be said to be antipodes to the accidental feeders, and their modes of thinking are, in every sense of the word, as opposite as are their ways of living ! You have only known me since I was what may be termed a free man ; or, in other words, since I became independent by the application of my energies to honest industiy. To attain this position was with me a work of years of toil and ardent hope. The great majority of young men who are put to trades are generally prepared OF A BEGGAR-BOY. m some measure, ere they are sent to masters, to pass their probation for the duties of life. You will learn, as you proceed, that my case, upon entering into the busy arena of the world, was very different. Where or how I came into the world I have no very definite idea. The first place I found myself in was a garret in the main street of Dumfries. The date of this extraordinary occurrence I have lately learned was some- where about the year 1806. Among the first great events of my life, I remember the circumstance of having been held up in my mother's arms to witness an execution ; the person's name was Maitland Smith, who suffered death for the murder of a cattle dealer, in Dumfries, in 1806. From this effort of memory, I conclude that I must have been from three to four years of age at that time. My mother then was earning her living by carding hatters' wool, which I believe to have been a very laborious occupation. Poor woman ! she had been unfortunate in placing her affections upon my father, who had deceived her, and left her with myself in her arms as a recompense for her lost honour and slighted affections. Shortly after this event she must have left the North of Ireland, and migrated to Dumfries ; how long she remained there I have no recol- lection. The next event which clings to my memory was my mother's marriage with a discharged soldier, whose health and constitution had been sacrificed before the altar of patriotism and glory in the Peninsular war. This gentleman's name was William McNamee. What sort of a figure he made in the war I know not, but I am aware he was no ordinary person in the estimation of all who had the honour of seeing him. In height he was upwards of six feet, and as perpendicular as the gable-end of a house ; his bones were so poorly protected with anything in the sha])e of muscle, that he looked like the frame of a man being set up. The first time I saw him, and ever after, he wore buckskin smalls (a part of the uniform of the foot guards) ; his limbs were so slender that he put one in mind of Death's shanks in Burns's inimitable Death and Doctor Hornbook. Whether it was the fashion to wear the hair long at that period I cannot say, but Mac wore his hang- ing down upon his shoulders ; the colour was that of a dark chestnut, and it himg in gi-aceful natural curls. When a young man he must have been very good-looking; his face was stLU prepossessing, and his bearing characterized by a b2 i THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY commanding military air. The marriage was celebrated iu a common lodging-house in Gretna Green. T believe the ceremony was performed by a knight of the hammer. How long the marriage festivities were kept up I cannot say ; but this I know, tliat after this event the world became to me a scene of continual vicissitudes and hardships. It is true, I had a reversionary interest in it ; and how I turned this patrimony to account will be seen in the sequel. My new-found father and good mentor was a man who pos- sessed a goodly share of common sense ; he had seen a good deal of service while in the army, having been in several general engagements, and was with the Duke of York in his memorable Dutch campaign. His scholastic attainments, I believe, were limited to reading and writing imperfectly. He was a member of the Church of Eome, and a rigid observer of all its forms. Poor man ! he had one failing, but this one was followed by a thousand others ; if he once tasted intoxicating liquors he had no power to close the safety-valve until he either became prostrated, or his finances were exhausted. Wlien he was in his sober moments, Mac was as honest a man as the sun could shine upon, and strange to say, when under the influence of drink he was quite the reverse. The most dangerous of his drunken foibles was an everlasting pro- pensity for polemical discussion, accompanied by an obsti- nacy of character like that of Goldsmith's village school- master — " For e'en though vanquished, he could argue still." This supei-abundance of religious zeal often caused him to receive treatment, anything but iu keeping with the charity of the Gospel. Like the majority of his country- men, (the name will indicate that he was an Irishman,) the mind of my step-father was largely surcharged with strong feelings of religious prejudice. It will be remem- bei'ed that people profe.ssing Catholicism in those days were marked with the hateful brand of the national stigma. They were therefore continually labouring under a painful sense of their unmerited wrongs. The members of the Church of Home, though British subjects, and contributing to the national wealth, and submitting to all the conditions of society, were debarred nearly all the rights and privi- leges of common citizens. They were not only continually subject to the gross and brutal attacks of the ignorant, OF A BEGGAR-BOY, O but their wrongs were frequently used as stepping-stones to state preferment by the rich and powerful. It was thus that the deadly embers of religious animosity were kept alive, and one class of society was continually made the foot-ball of the other. I have no doubt but my stej>father's mind must have been soured by the over- bearing conduct of his comrades while in the army, who took occasion to prove their sense of religion by a system of heartless persecution, which was at that time sure to find favour with their superiors. Of course this was no justification of his foolish conduct : I merely mention it as matter of palliation. Men who ai'e goaded by the unjust treatment of their fellows, seldom regulate their conduct by the principles of reason : un- merited wrongs are sure to produce a spirit of revenge ; and in my opinion he would be more than man, or less than man, who could passively submit to such degradation. From the above traits in my step-father's character, it will be seen what manner of man he was ; it may, there- fore, be readily imagined that a mind so formed would necessarily exercise no small influence over the building up of my own. McNamee had never learned any trade, having gone to serve his country when he was little more than a boy. After his constitution had been fairly shattered, he very imprudently took his discharge upon request, by which means his long service of twenty-eight years was unre- quited. When my mother put herself under the protec- tion of this gallant defender of his countiy, he was making an honourable living by appealing to the charitably dis- posed members of society. 1 believe she had been earn- ing her own living, as a travelling merchant, by retailiug to her patrons such small wares as she could carry in a basket. Shortly after the marriage, it was arranged that my mother should continue her business, and that my father should take me along with hhu, in order to increase the commiseration of the benevolent public in "his behalf. As I was said to be the oldest of three, and rather a pre- possessing looking little fellow, I was considered a pretty good subject to stimulate the kindly feelings of all good christians. My existence up to this eventful period may be said to have been in the dream-land which lies beyond the confines of memory. It is true I recollect some little 6 THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY land-marks, wliich left their impress upon my plastic memory ; but their importance is of so infantile a cha- racter, that I deem them woi'thy of undisturbed re- pose. My capacity for thinking was at this time beginning to expand, and my mind began to chronicle passing events. In the com'se of a few years after this, I had passed through a life full of hardships and romantic adventures. Within the space of two yeai's I had been the inmate of every jail in the south of Scotland. My poor father's love of drink, and his religious dogmatism, continually embroiled him in scrapes, and, being his squire, of course I always came in for a share of his rewards. I have still a vague remembrance of nearly being madfe food for a colony of rats in the tolbooth of Moifat. I remember, too, having been fed upon brose, with brose as a condiment dui'iug fourteen days, in Greenlaw gaol. I am not without some pleasing reminiscences of the gude toun of Hawick, having been boarded and lodged in the tolbooth there for the space of seven days. This circumstance arose out of the following little incident. My father had been on the fly in that town for nine or ten days, and when his money was all done he sallied forth into the country upon a begging ex- pedition. The first place we lauded at was a farm-house, a little way out of tlie town : I remember this house well ; and while I was in Hawick a short time ago, I had the curiosity to visit the locality, in order to see if the house was still standing. It is not like the ruined cottage, where none shall dwell ; after forty-seven years, T hailed its thatched roof and dingy walls, little altered since my first visit. My fatlier had only been in the house a short time before he had fairly enlisted the sympathy of the farmer by "fighting all his battles o'er again." After the subject of the wars had been sufficiently exhausted, my good angel wound up with a religious disquisition : on the whole, the good farmer seemed much satisfied with the abilities of the old soldier, and rewarded him accordingly. When my fatlier was passing out of the lobby, or rather the passage which separated the dwelling-house from the byre, his evil genius led him to steal a hair rope, or tether, which temptingly hung against the wall ; the farmer, fol- lowing us out at the same time, caught him in the act. Poor McNamee's boasted religion, like Paddy the Piper's music, flew uj) to the moon. The consequence of this escapade was, the honour of the board and lodging I have or A BEGGAK-BOT. 7 noticed above. It will be seen that my early training must have been pretty well attended to. About nine months after this event we were lociated in a small village of the name of Hightee, in the neigtibourhood of liochmaben, in Dumfrieshire, and had considerably bet- tered our condition, in consequence of my father having abstained from di-ink during the course of some four or five months. We were dealing in hardware, and had so far climbed the hill of prosperity, that we were enabled to keep an ass ! It would have been well if it had been the first in the family ! ! In consequence of being out of an assortment of goods, three of us were sent off to Dum- fries to obtain the required stock ; I mean my father, myself, and the ass ! Burns has truly said, " that the best laid schemes o' men and mice gang aft a gee." _ So it was with poor Mac : he owed himself a treat for his past good conduct, and of all the men in the world he was the last to allow such a debt owing to himself to go unpaid. With the high resolve of liquidating this obligation, he called a meeting of his creditors, and so relieved his mind of further anxiety about the matter. After three days and nights, the ass, his panniers, and myself, were all that remained of our worldly effects. There" is a climax to all worldly things ; so, like the immortal Tam O'Shanter, the time had arrived when we required to " talc the gate "; like him, too, we set out upon our journey when bordering upon the midnight hour. Our way lay through Locker-Moss, this was a barren moor, without anything in the shape of a regular road. When crossing this moor, I was set upon the back of the ass, and, being fairly worn out with sleep and fatigue, I tumbled off Neddy's back somewhere about the middle of the moor ; and, as the night was very dark, the ass and his com- panion journeyed on ; being sound asleep, I lay, quite comfortable, until daylight, when my father, after a good deal of trouble in finding me, picked me up, and flogged me well for parting company without leave. About the time I am wi-iting of, this village Hightee, or Bytee, must have been a regular rendezvous for wandering vagabonds. I remember one very ludicrous scene, Avhich was like to have ended in tragedy. 'Among the swarms of beg- gars, tinkers, and //i'/Jsie.s, there was a woman who had been in the neighbouilio'od for a considerable time. This lady was short of the sense of hearing, or at least she made it con- venient to be so. She had successfully levied black mail 8 THE AUTOBIOGRAPHT upon certain of the fair sex, under the pretence of telling them what good things the Fates had in store for them. It had come to pass that the oracles of this Sybil were not always in keeping with the truth. Upon the occa- sion in question, a large number of the villagers of both genders carried the poor deaf and dumb lady to a pond of water wliich embellished the village green, and, after having bound her body with a horse halter, by way of trying the hydropathic cure, they dragged her body and soul back and forward througli the water. Her complaint seemed hopelessly incurable ; but, as the good lady was de- termined not to go to heaven by water, she at last allowed the water to do for her what it undoes in many others, and, when the villagers found that they had rendered the woman such a service as that of restoi-ing her hearing, and, what was of more importance in afemale point of view, the use of her tongue, they consigiied her to the care of the Pi'o- curator Fiscal. I have often seen her after that as deaf and dumb as any foi'tuue-teller could wish to be. People who look down from the comfortable eminence of social life, will necessarily imagine that all class dis- tinctions will cease to exist among the wandering noinads, who live upon the charity of the well-disjjosed. In this they are vei-y much mistaken. In whatever walk of life men ai'e placed, talent will always take the lead. Among beggars, there is an aristocracy as exclusive as any that prevails among the higher orders of society. The diiference between a common beggar, who earns his daily bread by cadging for scran, and the genteel high- flyer, is as marked as the distinction between a peasant and a peer. The man who can successfully pass himself off as the innocent victim of an awful calamity, can afford to live in a vci'y superior style to the common every-day beggar, who receives alms as a matter of course. The one can generally afford to live like a lord, whde the life of the other is a dull round of drudgery. Vagrants are not wanting in ambition ; and the genius of one successful member is sure to stimulate the energy of some of his compeers. I have known men made up for the charity market in a hundred different ways ; I have even seen some adepts in the profession who were able to personate half a dozen characters, and successively impose upon the feelings of the benevolent in each. While we wei'e in the neighboui'hood of Hytee, there were thi-ee men, and OF A BEGGAR-BO r. 9 the same number of females, who were all first-class pro- fessionals : these fellows could make themselves up in an astonishing variety of ways, and they continued to go over the same ground with undiminished success in fresh guises. One day, one of these fellows was ruined by fire, and the next he lost his all by shipwreck ; then again he was the victim of a foul conspiracy, by which he was robbed out of his patrimony. No man can be a successful actor unless he can identify hiinself in the mind of the audience as the real Simon Pure ; it must, therefore, be admitted that the artistes I have alluded to above were no mean ornaments to their honourable profession. Amongst the wanderers in these days, there were a great number in Scotland who carried the meal poke. Many of the farmers' wives kept what was then called an aumous dish ; this was a small turned wooden dish, and was filled according to the deserts of the claimants or the feeling of the donor. Those who did not keep one of these vessels, were in the habit of measuring the amouutof their alms by a single handful of meal, or by a double handful, which was styled a goupenfou'. Some people gave alms in oatmeal, and others iii barley-meal. The oatmeal was always preferred by the applicants, inasmuch as they could always find a ready mai'ket for it, and at better price than could be ob- tained for the barley. 1 know not whether it arises from the march of intellect and the progress of scientific know- ledge, but I find there is one class of beggars who used to excite the sympathies of the good people on tlie north side of the Border, who appear to have gone down into the greedy gulf of oblivion. I allude to the handbarrow beggai'S. These human comiter-irritants for acting upon the best feelings of our nature, were at one time a source of infinite trouble to the people in the wild sequestei-ed parts of the country. The manner in which these dilapi- dated and crumpled-up fragments of the genus homo were transported from one locality to anotlier, imposed no small tax upon the time and kindly feelings of all who were honoured with a visit. These creatures were either seated u])on their barrows, or reclined upon soft couches, and when one of them was set down at a farmer's door, it re- quired two able-bodied peojile to remove the living lumljer to the next house. This was frequently no easy task, as the meal pokes were often as heavy as their owners. Now it often happened when one of these animals was planted 10 THE ATTTOBIOGBAPIIT at the door of a farm-house, especially in the summer season, when there would only be a single female at home, the he, or she, and the barrow would have to remain until the servants came to their victuals. In many instances, these living loads had to l>e carried several miles before they could be deposited at the door of another farm-house. I knew one case where a lady of this class was made to find the use of her limbs, by those who had charge of removing her taking it into tlieir heads to souse her into a comfort- able cold bath in tlie river Esk, which they had occasion to ford. Her ladyship, instead of " taking up her bed and walking," arose from her bed and ran ! ! ! After her bath she was no more seen in the beautiful valley of the Esk. Up to the period I am writing of, which would be some- where about the year 1809, I had twice narrowly escaped drowning. While my step-father continued sober, he treated me with all possible kindness, and not unfrequently evinced as much real affection for me as if I had been his own child ; but unfortunately when he was in drink, and, of course, got into trouble, I was continually made his sca2)e goat, and all his sins were sure to be visited upon my devoted head. About six months after the Dumfries ex- pedition, my father had been drinking for some days in New Galloway, a small place in the wilds of Kirkcud- brightshire. After he could remain no longer in this town, he sallied forth late in the evening of a cold October day, and he knew not whither. In the course of a short time we had arrived ujion a wild and desolate moor, the face of the sky was covered as with a pall, and the rain fell in torrents. I can never forget how he dragged me along tlie dreary wa.ste, he knew not whither. His tall, gaunt figure, was frequently brought into fearful relief by the flashes of lightning which followed the fitful claps of thunder, and he looked like the genius of the storm, with a young victim iu his hand ready fur a jieace offering. During that awful night we floundered through its dreary hoxirs, and had so frequently measured our lengths amid the bogs and swamps of the moor, that we actually becamca part of it. By daylight we found ourselves iu the neighbourhood of a lonely shepherd's cottage. The inmates of this house kindly received us ; we were both completely exhausted, and I believe if we had not met this relief at the time we did we should have both perished. As it was I could not OF A BEGGAR-BOT. 11 be removed for eight days in consequence of having been seized with a fever. During the whole of this time my mother had been very industrious ; but the great misfortune with her was, she had no sooner accumulated a little property than her thought- less husband squandered it in dissipation. Poor fellow! there never was a man in the world with a better set of good intentions ; but as a set-off to these unfinished virtues, he possessed a stock of evil ones which were like Pharaoh's lean kine— they continually devoiu-edthe good ones. Being a creature of impulse, his whole life was a continual round of sinning and repenting ; and I firmly believe that he was as honest in his resolves of amendment as he was mdus- trious in crushing his good intentions. In consequence of his frequent rounds of dissipation he was subject to fits of delirium tremens. At that time I had no idea of the cause of this fearful malady, and as a consequence was oiten nearly ft-ightened out of my life. The first circumstance of this kind occurred at a place called Wark ; this is a small village upon North Tyne, twelve miles from Hexham, m Northumberland. My father had been drinking in this place for some days ; whether he was obliged to leave the place surreptitiously, or did so upon his own account, I cannot say ; but this I do know, that I shall never forget the occasion as long as I live. We left Wark between ten and eleven o'clock at night, in the middle of winter ; he had made up his mind to go to Hexham, but instead of taking the direct road by ChoUorford, he forded the Tyne, and took the road by Barrisford, which was at least three miles further round. How he got safely through the river I cannot imagine, but it must have been attended with no small danger ; all I now remember is that we were both as wet as water coidd make us. We had not proceeded on our journey more than half- a-mile after having forded the river, when my father brought up in the middle of the road. Up to this time, he had been talking to himself a great deal of incoherent and disjointed stuff. This was an ordinary occurrence with poor Mac, when under the infiuence of the jolb/ god. The moment we came to a dead stand, he pointed his hand to the devil, who was standing on the middle of the highway, at the comfortable distance of about five yards in advance of us. We stood still for a few minutes, during which time my father seemed resolving the matter over 12 THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY in his mind, as to whether he should retrace his steps or go on. At hist, he crossed himself, and we moved forward. The devil, in the most friendly and accom- modating manner, did the same. In order to satisfy himself of Satan's identity, my father made an attempt to pass him ; but, however fast we walked, we were not able to lessen the distance a single inch, or, however slow we paced the ground, our relative positions remained unchanged. My poor little heart fluttered like a new- caught bird in a cage, and I was in a state of the most indescribable fear. I did not see the devil, but imagined we were in the company of thousands. My father was a person who, under ordinary circumstances, possessed a large amount of moral courage ; but he must have been more than mortal who could encounter the devil single- handed, and that devil a blue one. For some time, the perspiration exuded from every pore of his skin, and every now and again he crossed himself, cursed, or miunbled a prayer ! All this time he grasped my trembling hand with convulsive energy, and I clung to him for my very life, and did not dare to tui-n my eyes either to the right or the left. Although the night was extremely cold and my clothes were saturated with water, the powerful emotion of fear must have sent my blood galloping through my system : otherwise I must have perished. Our journey home was one of continual mental suffering. Every bush and tree, and every gust of wind, were to me as many devils, and, during the whole time, my father continued talking to himself and blackguarding his satanic majesty, who still acted as our pilot. When we arrived at Hexham Bridge, our unsocial companion silently took his leave of us, after having travelled over fifteen miles of a bleak and solitary road. It would be impossible for me to describe my own sufferings during that dreadful night. My father continued to see and to hold converse with the devil for some days after, and it was more than a month before he recovered from the effects of his debauch and nocturnal journey with the Master of the Blues ! Upon another occasion, some time after this, my father had been drinking in Lauder, a small town in the south of Scotland. We left this place in consequence of the active character of some of his amiable propensities. When we left Lauder, my mentor was in a state of beastly intoxica- tion. We took the Edinburgh road — I should think by OF A BEGGAE-BOT. 13 cliauce. This road passes through a wild and desolate moorland country. How far we had travelleo I cannot say, but during the night we lay down upon the moor, by the wayside. We had not been there long, when a continual succession of stage-coaches began to pass and' re-pass us. The whole of these vehicles were laden with passengers. Some of the passengers were ugly demons of every possible shape and form, some were merry imps, and others mischievous rascals. They all seemed to know poor Mac. Some of them invited him to take his place as an outside or inside passenger : others grinned at him with horribly distorted faces. Some were for hanging him : others preferred the amusement of drowning ; some suggested roasting, while others demanded a show of hands for boiling him. For hours these infernal coaches kept rattling past us, and my poor father kept my horrors alive by directing my attention to what the devils were saying. It is true I did not see any of them ; but I heard my father attending to their remarks, and when he saw them, it was quite enough for me — I could feel more than sufficient without ocular demonstration. I really believe, that, up to the date of our encampment upon the Lammer Muir, the road had never been honoured with anything in the shape of a coach higher in character and condition than a rude country cart. I remember another occasion, when these blue fellows held him in their hellish thrall for six days and nights. This was while we were being storm-staid in a lonely ferry-house in the island of Skye. I think he suflered more upon this occasion than either of the former. He was surrounded by legions of devils, who tormented him in every imaginable way. During the whole of this time, I was in a continual state of terror, and, what made my condition one of continual and unmitigated agony, I had none to console me. We had left my mother in the Low Country, and the people of the ferry-house were as igno- rant of the English language as if it never had existed. If you can imagine an innocent being chained to a dissipated devil and dragged through the slime, and mire, and scenes of horror which lie in the path of the drunkard, you may form some little opinion of my position when my father unchained liis lawless desires. If I were inclined to moralise upon the sin of intem- perance, and make known my own experience during my 14 THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY journey of life, ! what scenes of horror, misery, wretchedness, and crime, I could hold up to the scorn and pity of all rational men. I am firmly convinced that the foul and brutal Demon of Intemperance has done more in defacing the image of God among the sons of men than all our other vices put together. It may be truly said, that to this "monster we owe all our sin and woe." How humiliating it is to see a man come down from the high and god-like dignity of his reason, and leave his moral nature behind him, that he may revel in madness ! Every instinct and feeling of humanity goes by the board, and we behold the noblest work of the Almighty scathed and blighted — the pitiful wreck, of what ought to be the temple of wisdom, alone remains. This frightful insanity severs every tie of kindred, love, duty, and affec- tion. The home of the drunkard becomes a scene of deso- lation, and his friends have occasion to mourn him a thousand times more than if he were dead. The sin of intemperance is a fearful vice in man, but in the female it is an hundredfold more hideous. O ! what sight is there in Nature so truly sickening, as to see the mother of a family brutalized with drink '? With her there is no re- deeming quality left ; she becomes a maudling maniac. Shame, which guards the outposts of female virtue, flies from its duty ; the common decencies of life are cast U> the winds, and she becomes a thing of filth and loath- someness. Every duty she owes as a wife, a mother, and a member of society, are all swallowed up in her beastiality. She has no love, but for the damning cup ; no afi'ection, but for the foul craving of her fiery stomach. Her home becomes the alxjde of misery, her family are orphans, and if her husband be a sober man, she has covered him, body and soul, with a pall of living thorns. In her madness she blindly staggers on until she tumbles into a premature grave. This is no overdrawn picture ; such scenes ar© being witnessed every day — and every hour. I have frequently thought, when I have seen the people of this country, with the instincts of self-preservation, prepare to defend themselves against an attack of cholera^ or some other pestilence, (and with what anxiety they I endeavoured to ward oft' the dreadful malady,) that had they taken the same pains to stay the ravages of intem- perance, which is a thousand times more fearful in its consequences than any plague, or indeed than all the com- OF A BEGGAR-BOY, 15 bined scourges that have ever afBicted humanity, they would then have been doing a duty to themselves, their country, and posterity. I know there has been much pity expended upon the victims of this dreadful scourge ; and we have periodical displays of excited feelings, and the ventings of honest indignation ; yet fire-water sweeps on in deadly torrents through the fair fields of humanity, and carries thousands annually into the gulf of eternity. That we may see the deformity of this monster in a clearer manner, let us imagine three hundred thousand drunkards, male and female, all congregated together in one locality, so that their united actions could be observed I ask, would not their madness make the very angels weep, and humble the thinking witnesses of the revel to the dust ? Depend upon it, the i:50,000,000 the people of this country spend annually upon intoxicating di-inks, and narcotics, is quite sufficient to manufacture this number, large as it may appear. The statistical returns of our huge criminal department prove that 150,000 human beings annually pass through our gaols. From my own experience, I would say that the great majority of these have been initiated in crime by passing through the cursed portals of the gin-palace. If we could only watch the melancholy but transient c?ireer of these 300,000 self- devoted victims, and see them reeling over the precipice of eternity with fearful rapidity, how should we shudder with all the pity, fear, and horror of our natures ! The his- torian and the moralist may paint the revolting horrors and direful calamities of war ; but I am satisfied that the blood-stained sword of Mars never produced so much human suifering as alcohol has done. I may be excused this digression, — the subject is one on which I feel deeply ; moreover, I thought it necessary to call your attention to its manifold evils, in order that you may avoid the numerous temptations which lead to de- struction. Drunkenness is one of those vices into which men fall by degrees. In its first stages it is surroimded with many pleasing and apparently innocent pleasures. The social cup frequently seems as it were the key to men's best feelings ; and thus we are led on to taste its various joys, and indulge in the fascinating pleasures of kindred congeniality, until we are ensnared, and ulti- mately lost ! When we come to reflect upon the awful penalties tliis 16 THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY vice imposes upon its victims, we cannot but feel surprised at the self-immolation of so many thousands of human beings. With the drunkard, the infatuation is as blind and reckless, as the retribution is sure, and few ai'e able, after entering the gulf-stream of dissipation, to check their headlong career until they are totally wrecked. I have said that my step-father's health had suffered much wliile he was in the army. All the time that I knew him he laboured under a severe asthma, and was subject to continual attacks of coughing ; and his breathing was often so laboured, that one would imagine his machinery was faiily worn out. I often think, when I reflect upon the matter, that, considering the brutal manner in which he used himself, if he had taken even ordi- nary care, he might have prolonged his life much be- yond the date of his death. In the latter part of 1810, McNamee took it into his head to visit London, to see if he could obtain sufficient recommendation to pass the Board at Chelsea, in order to become an out-pensioner. By this time my mother had increased the muster-roll of our family by two, a boy and a girl, we therefore nimi- bered the round half dozen. A journey to London in those days was no trivial matter ; however, as wandering was our destiny, it mattered little where we roamed. After we crossed the Border, my father maile application for a pass in Carlisle, which was readily granted by the magistrate, when he learned the object of our journey. This pass enabled us to get relief ia the various towns and villages through which we had occasion to travel. As this turned out a i^rofitable speculation, we embraced nearly all the towns over the half of the kingdom on the way up. This journey initiated us into the genteel mys- teries of vagrant life in England ; and when my father could afford to keep himself sober, we could save money, and live like fighting cocks into the bargain. I can well remember the marked difference in the etiquette of the English and Scottish beggars ; at that time, the manners and habits of tliese strollers were as diLferent as it is well possible to conceive. The English beggars were then characterized by an independent, free, and easy style ; of course the distinctions of class were rigidly maintained on both sides of the Border, but in all cases the Scotch were far behind the genteel civilisation of their southern neigh- bours. The manners of these people, I imagine, are formed OF A BEGGAR-BOY. 17 and regulated much in the same way as those of gentle- men's servants. I have found that nearly every class of people in the kingdom have a moral code of their own, and every body of men has its own standard of perfection. Your profes- sional pickpocket looks down with contempt upon a knight of the scranbag, and the hvjhfyer turns up his genteel proboscis at the common cadger. A lady who may have shared the bed, board, and atfectious of an aristocratic letter-writer, would feel herself as much humbled in ally- ing herself with a plebeian charity irritator, as my Lord Noodle's some time affection receiver would have in es- pousing one of his lordship's ploughmen. From what I have witnessed in my early life, of the manners, habits and feelings of the wandering tribes of humanity in Great Britain, I am the better able to reflect upon their modes, and compare them with those whose position is higher up in the social scale. Honesty may be said to be the basis of human virtue. This consciousness of what is right is liable in the minds of certain people to an amazing amount of latitude. In some people, the perception of this principle becomes " small by degrees, and beautifully less." In comparing men's actions and motives, I have found that the difference is very frequently only in the degree, for instance, I have seen a beggar barter his wife for a pot of ale, and I have known a nobleman who got clear of his better half for 4()s. damages. I remember wlien in York, along with my father and mother, we were lodging in a house where there were about fifty travellers, male and female, congregated ; among this heterogeneous group ot all ages, conditions, and nation- alities, there was one jovial young fellow who found himself inconvenienced by the possession of a very good looking young woman — I should think her age was not more than nineteen. This pair of turtle-doves had been moistening their clays pretty freely for three or four days. At the expiration of this time, the gay Lothario, either sated with love or full of generosity, kindly transferred his lovely nynipli to the keeping of another gentleman, and gave him half-a gallon of beer into the bargain. I have no doubt such a transaction as this would be highly off"eu- sive to the feelings of people trained in the genteel walks of life ; yet it is no uncommon thing for the young fast sailors among oui' aristocracy to act in the same c 18 THE AUfOBIOGRArHT manner — with this difference in their favour, namely, that they have had the despoiling of their victims and covering their families with shame and ignominy before they cast them off. After a good many vicissitudes and two incarcerations, we arrived in London, and took up our abode in that sylvan retreat where the motley inhabitants spoke all tongues, from Kerry to Constantinople — Church-lane in St. Giles. " Sad thy tale, thou idle page ! " The ruthless hand of progress has swept this place of a million memories, and many a thoDsaud dark deeds from the map of the world ! If I remember correctly, we paid nine-pence a-night for one bed in a large barrack of a building, the pi-oprietor of which kept a provision-shop. This fellow was both as ugly and as dirty as if he had been bespoke so. The very atmosphere of London, or else its gin, very soon produced an exhilai-ating effect upon the nervous system of my father. In the course of a few days, his libations had reduced us to the most miserable state of destitution, and, to add to our hapless condition, we were left among strangers, many of whom were brutalized into heartless gi-inning savages by drunkenness. My father's discharge was backed with an excellent character. The com- manding officer under whom he had last served was tlien Governor of the Tower. As soon as he got himself into full marching order, by being free from the influence of drink, he presented himself before Colonel Cook and was very well received. The colonel promised to use his influence in my father's behalf, and, in the mean time, made him a present of two pounds ; as I was with him at the interview, I was introduced as his own son. The colonel also made me a very handsome present, and requested that my father should introduce my mother upon his next visit. For some time after this all went " merrily as a marriage bell." The colonel was an old bachelor, that is, if my memory does not fail me — he took a very strong liking to my little person, and was very anxious that my mother should invoice me over to him, in order that he might train me up in his own way. What obliquity of feeling or ftdso sentiment made her cling to me, by which means my fate was to continue to be chained to the car of evil destiny — I know not. As a proof that the colonel had no idea of how we were living — he pur- chased me a splendid suit of clothes, made in a sort of a OF A BEGGAR-BOY. 19 half military form, with an immense number of gilded bell buttons. Poor old man ! he little thought he was dressing me like a puppet for the charity market ! After we had been about a month in London, my father obtained an interview with the Duke of York. I cannot say whether he promised to interest himself in my father's favour, or not ; however he made him a present, and, on leaving us at the Horse Guards, he patted me on the head, and inquired my age. Passing the Board proved an utter failure, which I believe was entirely owing to the ever- lasting drinking propensity of my father. When all other resources failed for raising money, he used to make charity sign-posts of himself and the other two boys, along with me. Human sympathy is a strange thing — it binds men of all ages, countries, and conditions, in the god-like bonds of universal love. To those who have not got occasion to think upon the subject, it would be a matter of surprise to learn the amount of real charity which exists in Lon- don. If my father had taken care of the money he had given him during his begging campaign in London, I am satisfied that he could have gone into some business, by which means he would have been enabled to have rubbed the vagrant rust olf his character, and become a re- spectable member of society. The hungry devil in his stomach seemed ever ready to swallow up every good re- solve the poor man could make. I need not say that my mother's life was one of con- tinual misery. When left to herself, she was a woman that could always make a living, both for herself and family, but unfortunately, the proceeds of her industry went to swell the river of our calamity. London soon became too small for my reckless father. Diu'iug the time we were in town, he had wantonly, and repeatedly, abused the kindness and generosity of the Governor of tlie Tower. During some of his escapades there, I had the honour of three nights' confinement with him in the old guardhouse ; of coui-se'" he was put there to keep him from a worse place. During these small events, which went to make up the history of my father's life, my own years were increasing, and impressions were Ijeing made upon my undeveloped sensibility, which stamped them- selves upon my memory, or passed like shadows. I was a thing without a mind, and might be said to have neither body nor soul of my own — that plastic part 20 THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A BEGGAR-BOT. of my nature, which was to become my only patrimony, was being moulded under the most degrading influences and corrupt examples. It is true, and strangely so, whe- ther McNamee was drunk or sober, he never forgot to pray, morning and evening : and it was an amiable trait in his cliaracter that, whetlier in prosperity or adversity, he never let any of us forget the duty we owed to God, and our ilependeuce upon his Divine will. I owe him an eternal debt of gratitude for having left an indelible im- pression of the noblest aspiration of his mind upon my own. This redeeming living reality of his existence haunts me in my happiest waking dreams, and causes me to revere his memory with a holy affection, I often think that there is a soft and holy influence steals over our souls when our memories calls up the living forms of those who taught us to lift our eyes to Heaven, and say, " Our Father who art in Heaven !" I know that other influ- ences have wound themselves round my existence, and that I had received impressions of men and things which were well calculated to cramp the energies, and strengtlien the bonds of my mental slavery. These peculiar cir- cumstances were inseparable from my condition, and it required no small eftbrt, in after life, to cast off the silent working influences of such an education. Tlie differ- ence in i^hysical organization between a fool and a philosoi^her is often very small, if my step-father's duplicate bumps of caution had been a little more de- veloped, he certainly would have been a very excellent character. The want of this single element was the cause of all the other faculties of his mind living together in a state of continued disorder. This insuboi'dination among the servants of his system, set his judgment at naught, so, poor fellow, he had to march through the Coventry of life with a pack of real ragamuffins. In my next letter I will notice a few of the changes which have been effected in the progress of events in Modern Babylon since my first visit, after which I will resume my jom'uey. LETTER II. Mt dear Thomas, — Forty-five summere and as many winters have cast their broad lights and deep shadows over the face of the earth, and millions of human beings have performed their parts upon the stage of life, and made their exits, leaving room for others to run the same routine, since my first sojourn in London. The irresistible logic of time is change. To-day only is ! Yesterday has passed into the greedy gulf of eternity, and the future is rapidly hurrying to the same goal. While time whirls past with surprising velocity, and man pushes forward on the highway to the outer boundary of both time and space, the endless chain of cause and effect continually keep unfolding new combinations in the magic kaleidescope of nature. Amid the universal transformations of things in the moral and physical world, my own condition has been like a dissolving view, and I have been so tossed in the rough blanket of fate, that my identity, if at any time a reality, must have been one which few could ven- ture to swear to. In looking back from my present position, I have only a very faint recollection of London in 1810. Still, there are many circumstances and places which yet live fresh in my memory. The character of the locality in which we resided, and the many sti'ange scenes there, will ever retain their hold upon my recollection. The St. Giles of my youth with its stirring memories, huge sufferings, savage life, and innumerable crimes, — is now a respectable locality of comfortable-looking houses and civilized inhabitants ; while the dark deeds of the past are only to be found pictured in works of fiction or recorded in the exciting narratives of the Newgate Calendar. Change has, there- fore, swept over this once living hive of heterogeneous humanity, like a mighty wave, and washed away all traces of its very existence. St. Giles is not the only place in Modern Babylon that has been sacrificed to the levelling genius of progress. St. Catherine's was another of these dark spots in the wilderness of London, where vice and crime flourished in tropical luxuriance. I have often been taken through Swan-alley, which was then looked upon as being one of the most consummate sinks of iniquity in London, and I have frequently feasted my juvenile eyes 22 THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY upon the savage male and female patrons of the Black Boy and Tankard, where the first gentleman of the age was wont to enjoy himself in the refined society of coal-heavers and other amphibious denizens of tliat ultima ihule of civilization. One of the principal differences between these two saintly localities was to be found in their respective vernacularti ; in the one you had the blackguard slang of landsmen of all nations, mixed up witli the technicalities of prigs and professional beggais ; while in the other, you had the benefit of the jargon of salt junk and the Fo'-castle, refined with coal-dust and the elegant vocabulary of Billingsgate. This modei-n Gomorrah has been changed into pools of water — St. Katherine's Docks and a range of huge warehouses now cover the site of the whole locality — in these days Tower-hill was honoured with the title of Eag-fair, and the traffic of dilapidated garments, impressed with the fashions of a preceding age, was divided between the Jews of the stock of Jacob and those of St. Patrick, I well remember that the Tower Moat then lay stagnant and green, sending up its sweet effluvia as a sanitary offering to the surrounding district ; at that time the roar of the lions, the tinsel, red faces, and party-coloured dresses of his Majesty's showmen in the Tower were well calculated to fill a young mind with awe, wonder, and admiration — I observe that there are still extant a few of these rara avis, formerly known by the cognomen of " beef-eaters " — poor fellows, they look as if they were ruined by the luxuriant rankness of their pasture, and the onerous smallness of their labour. I can also remember the tidal industry of the water-wheel at the uortli-west end of London Bridge. The present London Bridge is like a young colony, it has not seen sufficient human misery to have a history. Waterloo and South- wark Bridges were then snugly sleeping in their quarries about Aberdeen and Falmouth. The two blacksmiths in the front of St. Dunstan's, in Fleet-street, hammered the passing hours with equal industry, to the amusement of little boys. The British Museum and the National Gallery have since then become monuments of our national progress. The new Palace in St. James's Park, and the Parliament Houses, indicate oiu* growing pro- sperity, and, as far as the Parliament House is concerned, our peculiar bad taste in architectm-e. Several men who OF A BEGGAE-BOY. 23 were tlien climbing the slippery hill of Fame, have long since gone to the home of silence, but T observethat their names, and their country's gratitude, have m several instances been perpetuated in marble and bronze. Many of the old-fashioned narrow streets with their dmgy and dropsical looking houses, have been displaced by spacious thoroughfares and magnificent places ot busi- ness. The addition of nearly a million of human bemgs has been the means of sending a large portion of the town many miles into the country for the benefit of its health ; the consequence is, that the London of 1855 i^ fully one- third larger than the old rickety London ot 181U. _ Durincr the last forty-five years, centralization has been the means of entirely changing the old order ot thino-3 The numerous modern facilities for travelling must have greatly contributed to swell London mto its present gigantic proportions. The continual multitu- dinous ingress and egress of strangers must have been the means of producing a gradual change m the social condition of the people, as well as coutributmg to the general prosperity of the town. In the early part ot the present century travelling was a thing of rare occurrence among the great body of the people. I have known scores of respectable country people who were never fifty miles from home in their lives ; among the same class of people in the present day, it would be ditficult to find men who had not visited the principal towns in the kingdom, either upon business or pleasure. Within the last twenty years the rail has set the whole world in motion ; from this state of human locomotion, it must be evident that a large portion of the London people must be continually em- ployed in ministering to the wants of their country cousins. Amongst the numerous changes which have been efiected by the innovating march of progress, I find that the Coekneif phraseology of my young days has lost much of its primitive simplicity, a married l^dy is now no longer a vife, and the osses eds have generally become embellished with Hs, a wessel now veighs anchor atter the W has relieved the V from the dog watch ; but it must be remembered that times were then werry ard, and weed, mm, and winiqar not loerry comatable, still the good people swiUed their arf and arf, whether ot or cold. The natives of Loudon have also been divested of much ot their one- aided views of men and things, and the consequence is, 24 THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY that they have left much of their old-fashioned prejudices beliiud. When I was a boy, a north countryman was sure to be branded with the title of a Scotchman, which then implied half savage, half knave ; and all Scotchmen were supposed to have been fed upon brose, braxy, and oatmeal. Our growing commercial relations, and the consequent fusion of the people, have done much to effect a revolution for the better in these matters, and if we are not more religious, we are at least more charitable, which is certainly a move in the right directiom I cannot say what understanding was come to between my father and mother before leaving London ; it is cer- tain, however, that some arrangement was made, which I believe was in no friendly spirit, in consequence of my father's continual dissipation. My mother took the whole of the children into her charge, and made ai)plication at the Mansion House for a pass to Hexham, in Northum- berland, as a soldier's widow, which she had no difficulty in obtainiog ; with this pass we visited nearly all the towns and villages on the east coast of England between Loudon and Newcastle-upoti-Tyne. As my mother pre- ferred taking the journey at her ease, and her own time, she frequeutly had the benefit of the cash that the over- seers would have had to pay for sending us forward in a conveyance, and at the same time she had the advantage of the intermediate relieving officers, who were often glad to get clear of us at tlie expense of a shilling or two. During tlie time we were in Scarborough, a little hunchbacked gentleman, who was a sweep by profession, had taken a notion to add one to his family, by appro- priating my small person ; I dare say he imagined that if I had been made to order, I could not have been more suitable for his houom-able profession, so he had me kid- napped while I was playing on the beach one evening. I was m his sooty honour's custody during three days and nights — while I was with him he used me like a prince. How my mother hunted me out I cannot say ; but I am aware that the little fellow offered her a hundred pounds down for me, and, if she would relinquish all future claim on me, he offered to make me his heir. It is said that there is a tide in the affairs of men, wliioh if taken, &c. ; if there be anything of such a nature in the affiiirs of boys, my affectionate mother always stood between me and the flood which leads on to fortune. Be that as it OF A BEGGAE-BOT. 25 may, it appears that I was neither destined to be the pet of Colonel Cook, nor the heir of this lonely being who seemed to require a receiver for his over-flowing affections ! ! Our vagrant journey thus fai- must have been very pro- fitable, and I believe my father's to have been equally so. I do not remember what plan he adopted, but I bilieve he operated upon the charitably disposed with his discharge, and the certificates he had obtained to enable him to pass the Board while in London ; however, a re-union between him and my mother took place while we were in York- shire. After they had compared notes, and agreed upon their plan of future arrangements, we proceeded to New- castle-upon-Tyne. The begging trade, with its gross deceptions, to say nothing of its dangers, I believe was somewhat repugnant to the feelings of my parents ; whe- ther they left the business from conscientious scruples, or from a feeling of independence, I really do not know, but after oui- arrival in Newcastle, we became trans- formed into respectable travelling merchants, or what were then regularly termed " pedlars." Our stock in trade was composed of a medley of hardware and small ware goods. For a considerable time we made Hexham our chief ren- dezvous, and travelled, as it were, in a circle ; in the course of a short time we cultivated a very general acquaintance, and we also obtained no small share of confidence and respect. While we travelled in the rural districts our expenses were very small ; the inns we put up at were the farm-houses, where our quarters were free, and we invariably had our victuals into the bargain. Before our journey to London, I had been the constant companion of my father, whether he was drunk or sober, like Sancho Pauza, I was sure to be at his heels, and if the Don was honoured by being tossed in a blanket, I was sure, like Paddy the piper, to come in for my share. My brother Robert was now grown to be a fine active boy, but at the same time a very headstrong one. Affections are things, I believe, people have very little power over ; be that as it may, any little hold I formerly had upou McNamee's good graces seemed to be waning, and a transfer to be gradually taking place. This change was daily being facilitated, by Eobert and myself always being in each other's way. In consequence of this inifortunate change of things the house became divided against itself ; 26 THE AUTOBIOGEAPHT the childish quarrels of my brother and myself were magni- fied into matters of importance ; every otlence was deemed an act of malice ; and I was always made the scape-goat for both his sins ami my own. My mother, therefore, took me under the wings of her kindly protection, and every quarrel between the young ones was sure to cause a rupture between the old ones. Some little time after we left Newcastle my brother and I happened to quarrel about some trifling matter. I had bled his nose, whether by accident or otherwise I do not now remember, but he had sufficient tact to make the most of it in representing the matter to his father, as he knew I should be well punished ; the consequence of this little escapade was likely to be rather a serious affair, inasmuch as I escaped with my life almost by a miracle. My father was in the habit of carrying a pocket knife, with a long Spanish blade, as a life-preserver : in his passion he stabbed at me with this weapon three times in succes- sion ; how the blade missed finding its way into my body, considering the power with which it was wielded, I cannot imagine, but the only injury I received was a slight cut on my side little more than skin deep. The first stroke cut the side of my jacket open, and the second severed the ■waistband of my trowsers, while the third cut open the brim of my little felt hat ; any one of these blows, if rightly directed, would have spoiled my music, and pre- cluded this biographic sketch. It was only a short tune after this, while we were at home in Hexham, I had been plagerising time, and making use of it for my own special amusement, by bathing in the river Tyne. I had been absent without leave from seven o'clock in the morning until five o'clock in the afternoon ; I remem])er I was sporting in the water like a young dolphin, when I beheld the gaunt form of my dear father, with a smile of satisfactory vengeance curling about his mouth, coming towards me with giant strides ; like a lamb in the presence of a wolf my little soul felt all the alarm of the coming danger. As he neared me, I observed that be had a new cut switch in his right hand, which he endea- voured to conceal behind his back, I lost no time in making for the river bank as speedily as possible ; I knew if I could only clear the water before he came upon me, I could soon enlarge the distance between us on the land, in consequence of his short-windedness. Notwithstanding my OF A BEGGAR-BOY. 27 good intentions, however, before I got fairly landed, I had half a dozen welts between my head and my hips, each aa thick as an ordinary finger, and as lively in the colour as a ripe cherry. Before I could reach home I had to run fully three-quarters of a mile, and to make my journey pleasantly exciting, one-half of the distance was through the leading street in the town. It was somewhat amusing to the natives to see me scampering naked along the public street, like a young American Indian, with my back scalped instead of my head, and my merciless tormentor following behind with my toggery amder his arm. I imagined that when I should gain the citadel of home, I would escape all further punishment, but this was an idea I did not realize ; inasmuch as I received satisfaction in fvdl. I will leave you to judge whether my punishment was anything like proportioned to the offence, when I inform you that I could not suffer my clothing to be put on for nine days, and during the greater part of this time was confined to mv bed. These little things would not be worth notice, only in as far as the severe treatment to which I was subject might have a certain influence over my own conduct in after-life. I know that my stepfather never used me with cruelty without regretting it afterwards ; in the whole course of my life, I never knew any man who was more a creature of impulse : 1 have known him to kick and caress me in almost the same breath. One hour he would be all sunshine, and the next, his whole being would be swelling with rage ; this storm would very likely be caused by some trivial circumstance ; and if he was depressed by small things, he was equally liable to be comfortably excited by mere childish matters. McNamee sober, and McNamee under the influence of drink, was like Philip, he was not the same man ; but it happened very unfortunately for me, that whether he was drunk, or sober, I had no appeal from his authority, and the punishment he awarded me when imder the maddening influence of drink, could not be repealed when he was sober. Although I was con- tinually subject to capricious severity, and unmerited suffering ; still, my life was not without its sunshine ; every storm is succeeded by a calm, and the smaller our power of reflection the more transient our suflerings. Dm-ing the time we were engaged in travelling, my duty was to carry the rags, horse hair, and other articles whicn 28 THE ADTOBIOGRAPHT we received iu barter for our merchandise ; when our bags were made up of these materials, I have often laboured under my burthen until my heart was like to break, yet with the buoyancy of youth Avhen the day's labour was ended, I have enjoyed myself in the very fulness of soul ; if in the summer season, by wandering by some vnmpling burn, or through the woods and dells, where nature revelled in her own wild beauty. I can now, after the lapse of forty years, call to remembrance many of the occasional haunts of my boyish days. I knew every farm-house from Hexham to Kielder Castle, at the head of North Tvne, and from Redsmouth to the Carter Bar. While travelling our rounds, we had certain farm-houses we honoured by taking up our lodgings in, where there were children of my own age, and I was as much at home with them as if I had been one of the family, and of course entered freely into all their juvenile sports, and pastimes. When I was a beggar-boy, I received as much real kindness, and found myself as much on terms of equality with the sons and daughters of respectable farmers' children, as if I had been one of themselves. Amid all my sorrows and sufferings, I cannot look back upon my wanderings in Northumberland without feelings and emotions of real pleasure ; and I can never forget the hospitality, and in some instances, the more than parental kindness, I experienced from the unsophisticated natives. I have eaten many a vjhang of barley-bannock, buttered with the gude wife's thumb, and I have been frequently con- soled with the ap])lication of the homely adage, "That lute body could tell wliat a rugged cout (colt), or a ragged cattant wad come to." Up to 1812, we had travelled over nearly the whole of England, Wales, and Scotland, sometimes iu the capacity of beggars, and at others as itinerating dealers, and in consequence of my father's unsteady habits, continually exposed to everchanging vicissitudes. While we were in Northumberland, there was only one thing to prevent my father from saving as much money as would in a short time, have enabled him to open a shop ; but after we had ob- tained a comfortable standing, and a good stock of merchan- dise, he opened the gi-eedy trough of his stomach and swal- lowed all; and after the wreck of our fortune, we removed over the Border to the Scotch side. During the next two years we continued to travel in the valleys in the south of OF A EEGGAR-BOT. 29 Scotland, but onr circuit was cbiefly confined to Eskdale,Lid- desdale, and TiviotdaJe ; and when we required to renew our little stock of goods, we had to go either to Dumfries, or Carlisle After our removal from Northumberland, my father once more put the rein upon his intemperance, and we were again upon the high way to prosperity. During the severe winter of 1813 and 1814, we were located at a little town in the south of Scotland of the name of Langholm. Although travelling was both a dangerous and difficult business during that memorable stormy winter, yet we were able to turn our industry to good account ; hare skins were then in great demand, and it w^as generally admitted that the skins produced in these vales were the best in the kingdom. At that time the article had obtained its maximum price ; the skin trade was then regulated by the Backend Fair, which was held annually in Dumfries, and at that time full skins were bringing thirty-six shillings per dozen. In consequence of the severity of the winter, the poor hares had little chance of escaping with their lives, and it was no unusual thing for a farmer to have two or three dozen skins hung up in his chimney corner. The trade-manner of casting skins was by arranging them into whole, half, quai'ter, and pelts, of course, the country people had little knowledge of these technicalities of the trade, and the dealers were sure to have the advantage. During the course of this winter, my father and mother made a good deal of money, but in doing so they encountered no small amount of hardship. Upon one occasion I was out with my mother in the wilds of Eskdale above Langholm ; we had a very narrow escape from being swallowed up in a snow-^v^eath ; and if it had not been for the timely assistance of a shepherd we should have both perished. I remember seeing several cottages completely blocked up with snow, the inmates having to cut their way out in the morning. In some of the more sequestrated parts of the country the people were nearly perished for want of fuel. I knew one lonely house wliere the inmates had to burn no inconsiderable part of tlieir furniture in order to keep themselves alive from the cold. Upon another occasion, I was out with my father upon the moors between Langholm and Newcastleton, then known by tlie name of Copshaw-holm. In this district the houses are few and far between ; during a snow- storm we had lost ourselves on the trackless waste ; we 30 THE ATITOBIOGRAPHY laboured in vain, for hours, to find our way to some house ; at last we got into a sort of a dell where there was an old sheep-fold, and by this time the night having come on, we were obliged to content ourselves with the shelter the lee side of the fold afforded us. My father had on a soldier's gi'eat coat, and he folded me under this cover and hugged me as close to him as possible during the long, dreary, and cold hours of that dreadful night. When morning arrived, we found little to console us : around, on every side, lay a di-eary and monotonous waste of snow, and my poor fattier seemed quite lost as to what direction to ■'".ake. We were both nearly foundered. He, at last, made an essay to find our way to some friendly dwelling, and as Providence would have it, we had not gone above a hundred yards from our cheerless quarters, when we heard the barking of a shepherd's dog. Poor Mac looked upon the dog as an .angel of rescue : after he had shouted two or three times, he was answered by the shepherd himself, and we were not a little delighted to ascertain, when we found our bearings, that we were not more than a quarter of a mile from a farm-house, the only one within two miles : we were kindly received by the farmer and his family, and, although we had suffered severely, kind treatment soon revived us. We were storm-staid in this place for three days, during the whole of which, we were most hospitably entertained ; but during which time my mother suffered intense mental agony, having fully made up her mind that we had perished in the storm. By this time she had given birth to five children, two of whom had died while we were travelling in England — the remains of one pretty little girl lie in the quiet and sequestered church-yard of Staindi'op, in the county of Durham ; and the other, a boy, found a resting-place in Gainsboi'ougli in Lincolnshii-e. The time Is now drawing nigh, when my own condition in life is about being materially changed ; but, before taking leave of this part of my history, I cannot help making a few reflections upon the state of society on the Borders in the early part of the present century. I can still look back tbrougli the dim vista of forty years to the happy days I spent among the primitive, but kind and hospitaljle natives. The inhaV)itants of the numerous sequestrated vallies on both sides of the Borders were then really an unsophisticated class of people. Every house on the Border at that time was a OP A BEGGAR-BOT. 31 welcome home for the wayfarer— the beggar was treated kindly and bountifully supplied with food— he had his bed for the night comfortably made up in the baru or the byre ; and in many farm-houses bed-clothing was specially kept for this class of wanderers. The jjedlar, or travelling dealer, was treated somewhat differently : he was lodged in the house, and generally took his meals with the family, and found himself as much at home as if he had been at his own fireside. In these times the farmers were content to dispose of their produce at the market towTis which were most easily come at, and they occasionally sold their stock to factors, who paid them periodical visits from the large towns : this was the manner in which the sheep farmers disposed of nearly the whole of their wool. In the Lowlands, travelling merchants purchased the butter and cheese in the same way ; others bought up the poultry and eggs ; and the butchers of Newcastle and Carlisle were wont to scour the country for calves and such cattle as they could not obtain at the regular markets. Travelling, among the country people in these secluded districts, was then a thing of rare occurrence, and they knew little of what was passing in the busy world, except what they obtained from hearsay. The times were then eqiially as exciting as they are now. The French war was then carrying desolation over a large portion of Europe, and there were few of the people even in these lonely, and sequestered vallies who had not occasion to mourn some dear relative who had fallen in the service of his country. If these people had not heard the martial sound of the bugle, or the roar of the murdering cannon, many a loved one was missed from the family circle, and the homely, but social board, and many a tender loving heart was left with an empty void which might never be filled. There were few newspapers in these days, and it Avas a thing of rare occur- rence for any of them to find their way into these regions. The various classes of people wlio made their living by travelling among these wilds were then the real news^mongers, and of course, were always welcome guests at the inqle of the farmer, or the cottar. Wlien my father kept himself sober, no man in his position ever found a more hearty welcome, or could receive kindlier treatment from the country people, upon whom he was in the habit of calling. The fact was, his information was generally looked upon as good change for their hospitality. His 32 THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY knowledge of the seat of war, and the operations of the contending parties, with the general intelligence he brought to bear upon his subjects, caused hira to "be looked up to as no mean authority. lie was equally au fait upon religious subjects ; his mind was well-stored with historical gleanings, and in polemical debate he rarely found his matcli. When he was sober he was cool in argument, and patient as a listener. I am aware that much of his knowledge was of a very superficial character, yet the manner in which he used it made him frequently pass as an oracle. Oft has he " Talked o'er his deeds of sorrow done," and if he did not " Shoulder his crutch and show how fields were won ;" many a time he has held the farm circle in breathless suspense, while delineating the havoc of the battle, or the dreadful carnage of the siege, the clash of arms, and the horrors of the sacked to-svn. In the course of my vagrant wanderings on the Borders, I had learned much of its lejjendary lore, and romantic history. Often while we occupied the chimney nook of a moorland farm-house in a winter's nicht, the daring deeds of some border reiver, would be related in the broad ver- nacular of the district, or tales of ghosts, witches, and fairies, would go round until bed-time. Many a time my hair has been made to stand erect at the recital of some tale of blood and murder ; and often has my young imagi- nation been filled with wonder at the fairy legend of a by-gone age. At that time the people on the Borders were ])i-overbial for tlieir superstitious notions. I have known scores of people whose illness was caused by su)K'rnatural means. Such complaints as were not common, or where the causes could not be probed by the limited understand- ings of the natives, were .sure to be produced by evil eyes. Children were then said to be cured of the hooping-cough by being passed nine times under the belly and over the back of an ass, or being dipped nine times in a south run- ning stream. In these times, the poor innocent cattle were frequently made to sutler for tlie sins of tlieir owners. Some people were proof against the power of the evil one in their own persons ; when such was the case, their live stock were sure to suffer. I remember we were once lodging at a moorland farm-house between Moss Paul and OF A BEGGAR-BOY. 33 Hawick, where we were to stay over Sunday ; on the Saturday one of the cattle belonging to the farmer had been bewitched, and the poor animal went mad — it was in such a rabid state that it was found necessary to kill it. The farmer was quite aware to whom he owed this act of devilry. The old lady who had used her spell lived in the neighbourhood — but the best of the matter is yet to come. On the Sunday we had a part of the identical cow served to us along with broth for dinner. I don't know whether my father and mother were too saucy to partake of this fare, or that they were afraid of the sanitary consequences ; however, be that as it may, we made our dinner of the potatoes, and the beef and broth were destroyed. The most noted places for witches and fairies that I remember, and where they lingered longest in the face of civilization, were Cannohy and Buecastle ; the latter place, is a wild moorland district in the most northerly part of Cumber- land, and I believe has been famed from time immemorial for the honesty of its cattle dealers, and the superstition of its rude Saxon natives. At the time I am writing of, there was not a glen, a homestead, a mountain-stream, or a valley, but had its ghost story, or some attendant genius in the shape of a good or evil-disposed fairy. Tu these days it was quite a common thing for one of the wee folk to assist in doing the necessary work of a farm-house ; and in order that they might perform their labour without inter- ruption, it was always done when the inmates were in the arms of Morpheus. One of the common methods in which the witches were in the habit of exercising their infernal art was by casting their glamour over the kirn of the farmers' wives to whom they owed any little debt of revenge. When the spell rested upon the milk, all the churning in the world would not produce butter. This species of credulity very fretpiently led to serious conse- quences. I have known several instances where females who were suspected of being witches, were all but sacri- ficed to the godly fury of innocent believers, the fact was, that to be sceptical upon this sul>ject was tantamount among the country peo2)le to disbelieving the Bible. The Witch of Endor, and the command that a witch should not be suffered to live, were looked upon as unquestionable authority upon the subject, and there were few at that time who had the haidihood to call these divine truths iu question. D 34 THE AUTOBIOGRAPIIY I nevei' knew any body who had a better appetite for a belief in supernatural agencies tlian my mother ; under the most trivial circumstances of bodily ailment or ill- fortune, she was sure to have recourse to cliarms. My brother, who died in Gainsborough, was a weak and puny child from his birth, and from the nature of liis ailment was vmable to assimilate his food. My poor mother was as firmly convinced that the child was bewitched as she was of her own existence, and she used several exorcisms to break the spell — among several valuable charms she had the heart of some domestic animal stuck full of pins, and roasted before a fire, and at the same time she used a variety of incantations ; how the operation failed in pro- ducing the desired effect I am not awai'e. I dare say you will imagine that this subject is not worthy of a moment's consideration. I grant you that it wouLl not, were it not that the manners and habits of the great body of the people, fifty years ago, form a striking contrast to those of the present day, and I have no doubt but the change will be equally as great fifty years hence, when the present age is contrasted with the future. Having received a considerable part of my education in such a romantic school, it would be strange indeed if I could have escaped without being subject to the impres- sions consequent upon such a course of training. Since I have attained to manhood, I can assure you it hojS fre- quently required all the little philosophy I possessed to keep the invisible agents of the other world from regulating my afiairs, and directing my conduct to suit their caprice or convenience, and many a sturdy battle mj'' reason has had with my feai-s upon their account. I think, on the whole, I have been able to overcome the numerous busy tormentors of my youth, and whenever my fears became alarmed, judgment is sure to come to the rescue ; however I must confess that tlie battle is sometimes little better than a drawn one. I am ncft sufficiently master of psycho- logy to understand how the lingering impressions of super- natural agencies should continue to alarm us after the reasoning faculties of the mind have passed judgment upon them, and found them mere creatures of the imagination, unless it be that Mi*. Imagination, who acts the part of a vigilant sentinel, by being always upon guard, .and easily alarmed, should be necessary to keep Mr. Reason in healthy employment, by lending fear the use of his aid and counsel OF A BEGGAR BOY, 35 in all eases of real or imaginary danger. I believe there are very few men who are not less or more liable to be acted upon by supernatural fears, and yet they are conscious that such feelings are mere dreams. When ghosts, fairies, and witches cease to live in the belief of a people, the cha- racter of such a people must lose much of its poetry. The age of superstition is one of ideality, in which imagination takes the lead of reason. The mind of a nation is in a continual state of transition, and the farther it flys off from the superstitious element, the more utilitarian and the more sceptical it becomes. A few centuries ago cri- minals were tried by ordeal ; in the early part of the last, respectable females were roasted for witchcraft, and the age of ghosts is only just passed away. It must not be sup- posed, however, that because we cannot believe in these things, that imagination has ceased to hold its empire over us. The loss we have sustained has been of late partially compensated for in other supernatural and electrical agencies. "We have now our table tm-ning, spirit rapping, and mesmeric clairvoyance. It is said by sensible people that the devil is the agent in these things, but if people are pleased to have the aid of tlie devil in ministering to their amusements, I really don't see why any one should find fault : for my own part, I think that his majesty might be much worse employed. D 3 LETTER III. My dear Thomas. — The first two chapters in the history of my life can be of very little interest either to you or any body else. Their principal value Avill be found in their connection with after events. Every man's life is made up of a chain of causes, some of which produce direct or immediate effects, others would seem to act upon us in the remote periods of our existence, and exercise an influence over our very destinies. I am not a fatalist — at least, I think not — yet I have often found myself led and acted upon by feelings and mfluences which I could not account for by any little philosoi)hy I possessed. This short-sightedness may arise occasionally from attri- buting certain acts and circumstances iu our lives to proximate rather than to distant causes, or vice versa. As. you proceed with this narrative, you will observe that my life has been one of epochs, or, more properly speaking, I have been carried forward by a succession of trade-winds without any dii-ecting power of my own. I may mention a circumstance here, which, though trivial in itself, will prove that we frequently labour under feelings and hold ideas we cannot account for upon any rational principle — at least, that such has been my case. From my earliest recollection, I was impressed with a feeling of the most unmitigated hatred against my own father: when, how, or where such a feeling took hold of my mind, I have not the most distant idea. I had never seen him, rarely ever heard his name mentioned, and never heard him described. I therefore knew not what sort of a man he was, and yet I hated him with a downright honest hatred. It is saiil, that " Coming events cast their shadows before." Whether this be the case or not, you will learn by the sequel whether I did not receive treatment to confirm this mys- terious feeling in his regard. In the month of May, 1815, while we were travelling in the valley of North Tyue, between Falsestoue and Kieider Castle, our family being all together at the time, we were resting, about the middle of the day, by the side of the river, my brother Robert and myself were amusing ourselves iu the water, — when a young man came up, on horseback, and introduced himself to my father without any ceremony, THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A BSGGAR-BOY. 37 by requesting to know if lie would allow his auldest callant to gang wi' blm to herd novjt for twa or three months. A short palaver was held between my father and mother ; I was recalled from my aqueous sports and was requested to dress, not for dinner, but for a joui-ney. T had a second shirt folded up in a piece of paper, was told my mission, helped on to the horse, behind the young man, and away we went. Our destination was a shepherd's cottage near the head of Warksburn : the distance from where we set out might be somewhere about twelve miles as the crow flies. Tlie name of my new home was Cauldrife, and no name could possibly have been more appropriate. The house stood upon a wild moor, completely isolated from the civilized world. I had my instructions that night, next morning was called up at four o'clock, and while I took my breakfast my new mistress packed my dinner up ready for me to gang to the hill. My dinner consisted of barley bannocks, a whang of skimmed milk cheese, facetiously denominated Peg Walker, from the peculiar cohesive cha- racter of its particles. This, with a tin flask of milk, was a sam.ple of my stereotyped dinners. After breakfast I went ofl" to the hill, whicli was distant about a mile and a half ; my charge was a large herd of oxen, which were sent up to graze from the low country in the summer moiiths, and were returned at the end of the season, in order to be fed for the winter market at Morpeth. I went on pretty ■well in my new avocation, until the novelty of the thing was past. After I began to reflect upon my position, my lonely and dull monotonous employment was like to break my heart. I rarely ever saw a human being from one week's end to another, except the inmates of the cottage when I went home in the gloaming, which was generally about nine o'clock at night during the time I was there. I endured this monotonous life for three months, and during the whole time I never either saw or heard of my father and mother. While I was in this place my mind was continually filled with all sorts of uncomfortable re- flections, and as the term of my servitude drew near, I had made up my mind that I was cast adrift upon the world, and my childish prospects were, as you may imagine, any- thing but cheering. During my sojourn in Cauldrife, I witnessed a little incident of rather a peculiar nature : one night I was lying awake in my bed, there being other two beds in the same room, one of these was directly 38 THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY opposite mine, and contained two men who were mowing for the season. About two o'clock on the morning of the niglit in question, both these men simultaneously arose in their bed, and sat upright, and carried on a regular con- versation for nearly half an hour concerning the French war, which was about being brought to a close, during the whole of the time the men remained asleep. After they had thoroughly discussed the question, they both lay down as if by mutual consent. What was very singular, neither of the men knew anything of the matter when questioned about it in the morning. At the expiration of my time I bade adieu to Cauldrife and ti-avelled over to Bellingham, which was about nine miles distant ; as good fortune would have it, I found my father and mother, and my clotliing being in a sad state of dilapidation, my father took me down to Newcastle and rigged me out with second-liand toggery, upon which he spent the whole pi-oceeds of luy three montlis' servitude, which amounted to fifteen shillings. . If I could have torn the veil from the future, it would have humbled my inno- cent pride, these same garments covered me when I was frequently steeped to the very soul in grief. It is often well for us that " enough for the day is the evil thereof." My fother had by this time continued a faithful disciple to the cause of temj^erance for two years, and the conse- quence of which was, that my mother and he had accu- mulated a considerable amount of property, and instead of carrying their packs, as they were wont to do, they had wisely enlisted the services of a pair of asses, so that they had really become respectable pedlars. My father, as I observed before, had left home when he was very young, he had left several brothers and sisters behind him, and had never heard anything of them during all the years he had been away. Finding that he was in comparatively comfortable circumstances, he made up his mind to visit the land of his birth. Whether he had any idea of remaining in Ireland or not I never learned ; however, everything was prepared for the journey, and in due course we aiTived in ould Ireland without any incident worthy of notice. As we journeyed to the residence of my step-father's rela- tions, we required to pass tlirough Killaleagh, in the county of Down, while in this place my mother learned that my o%vn father was married and living therfe. Here then I am on the eve of another change in the OF A BEGGAR-EOr. 39 wheel of my capricious fortune. My mother had an inter- view with my father, after which I was duly consigned to his care. I cannot describe my feelings at this sudden and imlooked for change. My step-father, with all his faults, on the whole had been a kind and not uufrequently an affectionate father to me ; on the other hand, my own father was an utter stranger, and I went to him with my mind surcharged with a living hatred of his very name. I have observed that he was married — he had a family of three children, the oldest of which was a boy about five years of age, and the two younger were girls. I therefore lost my own mother and a step- father, with three brothers as dear to me as if we had all owed our being to one father. In place of these I found a step-mother, by whom I must naturally be looked upon as an unwelcome intruder. My new-found brother and sisters were strangers to me, and from the peculiar circumstances of our left-handed relationship, and the unlooked-for nature of my introduction, it was very likely we should remain strangei's to each other, at least in feeling. If you will imagine to yourself a number of people obliged to live upon short allowance of food, and forced to receive an additional member without a corre- sponding addition of victuals, you will be able to form a pretty correct idea of my reception in the ungenial home of my father. My step-mother was certainly placed in a very unpleasant position, before my unlooked-for appear- ance she was not aware that any other duplicate of her dear husband existed except her own loved boy. After I was introduced, the poor woman did not know how to treat me, and I knew she never could love, if even she could bring her mind to tolerate me. From the peculiar sensation my presence created, I could observe that my father found himself in no very comfort- able position ; I was there as a living memento of his perfidy, and while under his roof, I was a standing reproach to him for the faithlessness of his conduct. My new mother was a very quiet, easy, thriftless sort of a person ; when she was ill-natured, or in a passion, she told the ol)ject of either the one or the other— the nature of her feelings through the medium of her eyes instead of her tongue. My father was a peaceable, industrious, sober, and well- meaning person, he had nothing marked in his character, if I except a strong hatred of popery. At this time, he was in humble cbcumstances, and his young family 40 THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY required all his industry for their support. Ilis trade was that of a corduroy weaver, at that time employment was scarce, and the work was very badly paid for. I should then be somewhere about twelve years of age, but I was both small in make, and low in stature ; however, as a set off to these natural deficiencies, I was both sharp and active. It was not likely that I was going to be allowed to eat the bread of idleness, so I was set to the business of winding bobbins for my father. As there was no accom- modation for me to sleep at home, I was sent to lie with my uncle Jolin, who had then only returned from the army, wliere he had seen some service — he was lodging with my paternal grandfather, whose dwelling was next door to my father's. The old man rented a small plot of gi-ouud, by the cultivation of which he contrived to earn a scanty living. I think his age was then seventy-six, he had, when younger, Vjcen a vei-y strong man. The proceeds of his early industry had been swallowed up in rearing a large family, who were then all married except one girl who was living with them, and mj' uncle John. The first out-door employment I had, was in gathering potatoes for my father when he went out to dig by the day, which he was in the habit of doing in the season. While this busi- ness lasted 1 fared pretty well, as we got our victuals from the farmers where we were employed. When my father settled down to his loom again, I was honoui'ed with a new employment ; in addition to winding the bobbins, I was made caterer for fuel for the establishment. Sometimes I was sent to the moss for turf, this place was fully three miles from Killa- leagh, what turf I got I brought home in a bag, you may form a very good notion of the quantity of this } material I could carry such a distance at my age. ^yhen I did not go to the moss, I was sent into the fields and woods to gather sticks and furze. By this tmie the winter had set in, and I was neither inconvenienced with slioes nor stockings. In consequence of my professional rambles through woods and fields, my clothes were reduced to rags ; indeed, no young urcliiu could possibly have a better suit for ventilation, and what was more, I had a numei'ous live stock on my body with the addition of the itch to keep me warm. If cleanliness be a virtue, my guardians seemed to have very little respect for it, and as to any care they had over me, that appeared to give them even less concern. It is really sui'prising what an influence OF A BEGGAR-BOY. 41 dirt exercises over the mind, and how soon a person is likely to lose all feeling of self-respect when proper care is not taken with the person. The avenues to morality require the frequent ai:)plication of soap and water, other- wise the noblest faculties of our nature soon become clogged and inactive. Poverty in rags is a thing that is seldom allied to romance ; had I been transferred from the nursery of some rich man's family, the circum- stances of my suffering condition would have been well calculated to create sympathy in my regard ; as it was, the world had no care for me ; yet I had a world, of feeling within me which was continually acting and re-acting upon itself I knew I had no one to look vcp to ; I therefore kept my siifferings, and my thoughts as much to myself as possible. Often when I was wandering in the fields gathering firewood, I have poured out my pent-up feelings in a flood of tears. Young as I was, I could see that my future in life must depend upon my own exertions. I had one idea that was contin\Tally before me, and haunted me in my night visions and waking thoughts, which was to fly from my miserable bondage, but how that was to be effected, I knew not, still I felt a melancholy pleasure in tossing the thought in my mind. During the winter my feet were hacked into innu- merable fissures from which the blood was continually starting, .when I waslied them at night before going to bed (which was as seldom as possible), my suflerings were intense, added to this, my heels were as elongated as any black man's, with the action of the frost, wliicli caused me either continual jiain or an itching, which was nearly as bad to bear. Notwithstanding my hard lot, neither my father nor mother ever noticed me, unless to do their bid- ding ; the fact was, I was a complete stranger in my father's house, and continually treated with marked cold- ness and neglect. Had it not been for my grandfather and grandmother, and my uncle and aunt, who always treated me with uniform kindness, I should have fre- quently suflered from hunger. My uncle was at that time r.ather a rakish young fellow, he occasionally broke the dull monotony of my existence, by taking me with him to some of the rustic dancing parties he was in the habit of attend- ing. The only Irish wake I ever had the pleasure of seeing was in his company. I believe the Irish character is uo where to be seen to better advantage, than at a 42 THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY wake or a fair, for in both cases, the wliisky brings it into bokl relief. The peculiarly exciteable nature of the Irish temperament, seems to know no medium, the transition from fun to fighting, is often instantaneous. At that time it was no uncommon thing to see men shaking hands one minute, and industriously breaking each others heads the next. During my sojourn in Killaleagh, I had frequent oppor- tunities of witnessing those outbursts of feeling which arise from party spirit. This infatuation has been a national curse to Ireland ; the idea of men killing each other for the love of God, has something in it so extremely repugnant to common sense, that did we not know the weakness of human nature when labouring under strong prejudice, we could not believe in such a state of things among people who were even half civilized. I am aware that Ireland has suffered much from English misgovern- ment arising from an illiberal and short-sighted policy. Until lately, our rulers have uniformly endeavoured to keep alive a spirit of antagonism among the people ; in this conduct they have evinced a very small philosophy, and a still smaller Christianity. But however much the English have been to blame, the Irish people have ever been their own greatest enemies ; there are few countries blessed with so many natural advantages ; and I am cer- tain that no civilised people could have done less to deve- lope its numei'ous resources. Instead of extending the commerce of their country, cultivating the soil, and adding to their social comforts, their time and energies have been wasted in party feuds, and savage forays upon each other. From this state of things, the Irish character had become a problem to the i-est of the civilised world, and neither statesmen nor philosophers could find a key to its solution. There is another trait in the Irish character which has ever been a drag upon her prosperity ; I mean the want of national independence. Her people, instead of depend- ing upon their own energies, courage and industry, have vainly looked forward to their country being redeemed by acts of Parliament. O'Connell had frequently edified his countrymen by quoting Byron's saying, " He who wo\ild be free himself must strike the blow ;" but had he impressed upon them the truth, that a nation that woidd be great must be united and industrious, it would or A BEGGAR-BOT. 43 have been more applicable to their condition. lu my opinion "the love of savage justice" which has always characterized the Irish people, -would long since have died a natural death, had it not been for the religious feuds which so long continued to divide the nation against itself. I am glad to think that a happier morn has dawned upon the nation, and that she is now beginning to cast off the chains of her mental slavery ; and that the time wiU soon come when she will not be last in the great race of civilisation. In the early part of the spring of 1816, my father went out to the herring fishing, with a party of men who, along with himself, were joint proprietors of a boat and net. The party had been at sea all night, and early m the morning it came on to blow a gale ; the weather continued so stormy that great apprehensions were felt for their safety. The friends and relations of the boat's crew were in dreadful alarm, and by break of day the beach was covered with a crowd of the townspeople, anxiously looking out to sea. During the whole of my life I cannot say that I ever felt a feeling of revenge ; on the contrary, such a state of mind seems foreign to my nature. What I am goiut^ to state may seem both unnatural and unholy ; yet, upon that occasion the only fear I had was, that my father should not be drowned. The chance of escape from bondage such an event would give me was the all-pervading feeling of my soul. If the half of the world must have been wrecked along with him, the feeling would have been the same. The dreadful consequences to the families of the men who formed the boat's crew never entered into my mind ; my only thought was to be free. During the fear- ful suspense and the vacillating hopes and fears of those interested in the safe return of the party, my condition of mind was a solitary exception to that of every being in that anxious crowd. The circumstance was just one of those which was well calculated to bring charity to the post of duty, but all my best feelings were covered as it were by a mountam of selfishness. Until the boat reached the beach in safety, my hope was against every other hope, and when the hope of the people was reahzed, mme was blasted. Up to that time my feelings had never suffered with such intensity, if they had been steeped m the devils molten furnace they could not have been more hellish. His safe return kept me in chains, and restored my anxious step-mother her husband ! 44 THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY I have often thought if my father had treated me w-ith even a small amount of kindness, he might have been able to subdue my hatred. My young heart yearned for something to love, but that feeling required to be drawn out by a kindred one. I knew my step-mother could not love me — it was not in the nature of tilings for her to do so ; my father had deceived her in hiding my existence, it was therefore no wonder that she treated me with so much coldness and disdain. My father's harshness and want of duty to me may have been greatly regulated by the opinion she would form of his conduct to me, and the favourable contrast she might be able to draw of his fatherly treatment of her owti children. During the whole time I was with him, he never once called me by name, his uniform manner of addressing me was, by the withering and degrading title of "sir !" Had he but known how truly I hated him, and his unmannerly term, he might have acted more in accordance with the character of a father. The affections of young people cannot be outraged with irajniuity, it is true they luay be trampled upon, but duty never can supply the place of affection and gratitude. I have reason to think that my father has often I'eflected in the bitterness of his heart on his cruel conduct to me. Had he done his duty to me as a father, I might have been able to repay him when he most required the dutiful attentions of a son. If he had sent me to school, wliich he could have done, and assisted me to go into the world with only an ordinary education, he would have saved me from being the foot-ball of fortune, and leading the life of a wandering vagrant for years. He was frequently in the habit of taunting me with the old soldier, as lie was pleased to call my step-father ; had he known how iiuuieasuraV)ly lie fell in my estimation in the comparison, he would have been more cautious in his ob- servations. He had learned that McNamee was a Catholic ; this of course witli him was an unpardonable sin, and he frequently told me with much l)itterness of feeling, that if he tliought there was a particle of Popery in my body he would cut it out ! Poor man ! from what I could observe, his hatred of Catholicism, like that of many of his coun- trymen, constituted nearly all the religion he possessed. The progenitors of my family wei-e originally an impor- tation fi'om Scotland, and being Cameronians, the deep OF A BEGGAR-BOT. 45 hatreds and strong prejudices of that sect seemed to cling to them through tlieir generations. I often think it strange, when I reflect upon the matter, that, during the whole time I was in Ireland, I had never cultivated a boyish acquaintance nor had a single play- mate, if I except a little girl, the daughter of one of my father's neighbours— I was drawn to her by pure kindness. We never met but she had a smile and a kind word of greeting for me ; she was first drawn to me by pity, and then she loved me. This dear little creature was like a good angel to me, and I loved her with the fondness of a brother. We often met when going errands, and upon such occasions we were never at a loss for conversation. I frequently told her of my travels and the strange sights I had seen, until her little innocent mind was filled with wonder. Even now, after the lapse of so many years, I can picture her little dumpy form, red fiice with the dimple in her chin, and the sweet pleasing smile playing about her small mouth, as if we had only parted yesterday. I remember, upon one occasion, while we were upon some message together, I was reciting some of the tales of my travels to her, when she interrupted me by inquiring, What sort of a town England was ? Since then I have had similar questions asked Ijy older heads than hers. A short time ago I was in Aberdeen, where I lodged with a very kind and amiable old lady. One evening I was making inquiry of her as to the position of Nairn and its distance from Aberdeen, at the same time wishing I had a map of Scotland to refer to. She observed that she could sune gie me ane. The dear oLl lady was as good as her word, for she presently supplied me with a map, or lithographed plan of the seat of war in the Crimea ! I laughed at her good-natured simjjlicity, and observed that her geography was confined to the latitude of the tea-pot. " 'Deed," quoth she, " ye may say dat, for in my young days there was nae siV new fangled things thoucht o'.'" The winter of 1816 had passed away, and spring with its glorious train of vernal clothing, sunshine, and flowers, had once more decorated the fixce of nature. But in the face of returning gladness to the earth, my spirits were steeped in sadness, and summer and winter were all the same to rae. When I have been in the fields gathering my daily load of firewood, I have often envied the joyous lark, as he poured forth his full flood of song, his glorious freedom. A being 46 THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY in my situation could have very little sympathy with external nature : my sores made me savage, and my isolated condition turned all my thoughts upon myself. Since then, I have often thought that the man must be callous indeed who can listen to the joyful strain of these sweet warblers, as they hail the early morn, without feeling in his soul emotions of heaven-born pleasure. That is a beautiful poetic fancy of Tannahill's, where he describes the " Laverock fanning the 5?iai/>white clouds." I have often thought that the delightful warblings of this prima donna of the feathery choir was well calculated to di-aw men's souls from earth to heaven : many a time I have felt their music act like a soothing charm upon my troubled mind. I sometimes think when men's souls are not in harmony with the love and sympathy of nature, that they cannot feel the true enjoyment of life. There is many a honest John Bell to whom a daisy is just a daisy, and nothing more than a daisy : this, however, is the bliss of ignorance. In bringing this reflection to a close, I am obliged to admit that there is one condition necessary to those enjoyments which spring from a pi'oper appreciation of the beauties of nature. I confess it is a vulgar one, but not the less necessary — I mean an orderly stomach. In the middle of April, 1816 ; my father took me with him to assist some neighbouring fai'mer in makuig liis turf. It seems to be a regular practice in that part of the country for the neighboui's to assist each other in gettuig in their winter's fuel ; this oj^eration always takes place in the early part of the season, in order that the turf may be thoroughly dried through the course of summer. Two little circumstances occurred to me upon this occasion, which would not be worth notice but for the after conse- quences of one of them. The one was having enjoyed a good dinner, and the other having my right foot severely wounded on the instep, by the ti'amp of a horse. I have already observed, that my feet were in a very bad condi- tion in consequence of being always exposed to the weather, my new wound was therefore, a very unacceptable addi- tion to my catalogue of sorrows. As the season advanced, my yearnings for liberty in- creased, and my resolves began to assume something like a tangible form. One day in tlic early part of May, I was sent to tlie moss for a bag of turf ; this was after I had done winding bobbins^ for the day ; the wound on my foot OF A BEGGAR-BOT. 47 was extremely painful, and what made it more so, I had no commiseration shown me, and no one seemed to care whether I felt pain or pleasure, so long as I could perform my taslcs. I had got to the moss, had filled my bag and got my load resting on the higliway ; this was the direct road from Killaleagh to Belfast. After standing reflecting with the mouth of the bag in my hand for a few minutes, my final resolve was made ; I tumbled the turf out on the road, put the bag under my arm, and turned my face towards Belfast, and my back to a friendless home. I had no such feeling as Jacob experienced when he left his father's house ; my mind was made up tliat whatever might be my lot in life, no consideration sliould induce me to return. From the moment I made up my mind, I threw myself boldly upon the world, and for ever broke asunder every tie that con- uected me to the name I bore. I had neither staif, nor scrip, nor money in my pocket. I commenced the world with the old turf-bag. It was my only patrimony. In order that I might sever the only remaining link that bound me to my family, I tore two syllables from my name ; and thus I wandered forth into the wide world a fugitive from kindred and from home. I had no fear but one, and that was of being followed, and taken back. I tra- velled sixteen Irish miles that afternoon. The excited state of my feelings kept down the pain I otherwise must have suffered from the woxmded foot. That night I found an asylum in a cow-house in a suburb of Belfast, and the next mornmg I was off by day-light for Donaghadee. My reason for going there was that it was the jiort I landed at when first coming to Ireland. On my way I called at a farm-house and begged a little food. I I'eached Donaghadee about ten o'clock in the morning, and found that the packet was not to sail till late in the evening. For fear 1 should be discovered, I hid myself among the rocks on the sea-shore imtil the sailing of the vessel. When that time arrived (wliich I thought would never come), I stowed myself in the forecastle until the vessel was a good way out to sea. I cannot express the joy I felt when I found myself safe. The cap! ain bad- gered me when he found I could not pay my fare, but this was soon over. We arrived in Portpatrick harbour, about two o'clock in the morning, where I had the honour of another good blowing up from the btjatmcnwho \mi me ashore — that, too, passed by without giving me any trouble. 48 THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY I thus landed in Scotland a penniless wanderer, but with a miud full to overflowing, with real joy at my escape from bondage. No officious porter importuned me to carry my luggage ; nor did any cringing lodging-house keeper invite me to accept of his hospitality. After looking about me for a few minutes, I observed a gentleman's travelling carriage standing before the head inn ; witli a light heart I took up my quarters in this comfortable abode, where I slept soundly until I was unceremoniously pulled out by a servant in livery about half-past six in the morning. You may be curious to learn what were my future jjlans and prospects when I had got thus far. To tell the truth, I had no definite idea of what was to come of me, only that I was determined to fly to England. All my happiest childish associaticms were centred in th^ valley of North Tyne, in Northuml>erland, and I was, therefore, continually attracted in that direction. The distance from Portpatrick to Eellingham, which I looked upon as my f'estination, would be about 150 miles. The distance gave me no trouble — indeed, if it had been 1000 miles it would have been all tlie same to me. I took the road for Dumfries, and travelled about twenty miles tlie first day. I begged my way with as good a grace as possible ; all I required was food and lodgings, and I had very little tiouble in obtain- ing either the one or the other. The day after I landed, I went into a farm-house on the way side to solicit a little food. The good woman observing my hag, natu- rally imagined I was one of a family, and kindly gave me a quantity oi raw potatoes, which I could not refuse. These potatoes gave me no small trouble, as I could not make vl\> my mind to throw them away, so I carried them to the end of my second day's journey, and gave them to an old woman in Ferry Town of Cree, for lil)erty to lie before her tire all night. Poor old ci'eature ! she gave me share of her porridge in the morning, seasoned with sage advice. Next day being Sunday, I took my time on the way, and travelleil until )iine o'clock in the evening. Seeing a farm- hoiise a little off" the road, I went and asked for lodgings. At the time I called the inmates were engaged in family worship, as soon as they had finished I was inundated witli a shower of questions, to which I had to reply by a volley of answers. The gudeman thoucld I had run awa^ frae me l^lace, " saying it was an unca like thing to see a laddie like me stravaging about the kintra on the Sabbath-day ; OF A BEGGAR-BOY, 49 he was sTiere I belanged to somebody, and it was a pity, for I was a weel-faured callant, he wad warrant I was hungry." After this he ordered the gudewife to gie me some sipfer ; I had, therefore, an excellent suiaper of sowans with milk, and bread and cheese. After my repast, the good farmer made me up a bed in the barn, with the winnowing sheet for a cover. In the morning I had a good breakfast, and before leaving, the good man gave me a world of advice. Up to this time I had been so elated with my escape that 1 had not had time to feel the wound on my foot ; but the novelty was now beginning to wear away, and my foot began to assert its right to attention as a useful member of the body corijorate, and to make me feel smartly for my neglect of it. A great part of the in- step Avas festered, and the pain became so great that my whole limb was affected. I had, therefore, to limp along, and nurse it as I best could. On the morumg of the day I arrived in Dumfries, and just as I was leaving a farm-house, where I had lodged all night, in the neighbourliood of Castle Douglas, I fell in with a man who was driving a herd of cattle to Dumfi'ies market, which was held on the following day. Seeing that I was going in the same direction, he invited me to assist him in driving the nowt, and w/taji we gat te the toun he wad gie me a saxpence te me sel' ! I was certainly in a bad ondition for such a task ; the money, however, waa I tempting inducement, so I accepted his offer. It would 1 )e impossible for me to give you anything like an adequate idea of my sufferings in performing the duty of a dog over eighteen miles of a partially fenced road. When we arrived in Dumfries I was fairly exhausted, and like to faint from sheer pain. To mend the matter, the heartless savage dis- charged me without a farthing of recompense. The mon- ster excused himself by saying he had nae bawbees. There I was ; hungry, lame, broken down with fatigue, and with- out a place to lay my head. The toll-keeper, at the entrance of the town, who had witnessed the brutal con- duct of the drover, and heard my statement, tried to shame the wretch into a sense of his duty, but he was just one of those animals, in the form of a man, who could afford to jnit up with any amount of abuse if he could save anything by it. The toll-keeper being a man who could feel for the suf- ferings of others, kindly invited me into hia house, where K 50 THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A BEGGAR BOY. he not only supplied me with a hearty meal of victuals, but he also got his wife to wash and dress my wounded foot. This man was a good Samaritan indeed. On leaving him I endeavoured to express my grateful sense of his kindness in the best manner I could. I had some idea that there was a person living in Dumfries with whom my step-father had been on tei'ms of intimacy ; I therefore sought this man's residence, in order that I might obtain a night's lodging. After making inquiry, however, I fpund that he had left his country by authority ! So I had to seek quarters elsewhere, and after some little time 1 got a lair in a hay-loft belonging to one of the inns. LETTER IV: Mr DEAR Thomas,— The man who has made up his mind to push his way through the world must be content to take men as he finds them, I am glad to say that the conduct of the heartless ruffian I described in my last letter, is an exception to the humanity of my exi^erience. This man's humanity was a thing of pure selfishness, which he could no more help than he coidd fly. In some natures there is a living feeling of generosity, which is easily called into action at the sight of human misery ; and, if it cannot afford relief, it at least sympathises with the sufferings of the victim. While, on the other hand, there are men whose feelings are doomed to dwell in the frozen regions of imcharitableness, and no amount of misery can set them free. Although I have had to fight my way through a busy world, where all classes of society were continually engaged in looking after their own affairs, I am happy to bear my humble testimony to the genei'al difiusion of that god-like feeling which so closely allies man to his Creator. The next morning after my arrival in the gude town o' Dumfries, I went down to the sands, where the cattle- market is hehl, and I soon got engaged to tent a herd of oxen for the day ; my remuneration for this service being two-pence and a bawbee scone. In consequence of the rest- lessness of the animals, I suffered very much with my foot during the day ; and as the herd was unsold, I was' kept on the sands until late in the evening. When I got my liberty I took the road to Carlisle. As I went limping along numbers of people were returning to their homes from the mai'ket, and among the rest, I observed a man with an empty cart, who a]ipeared to be going in my direction. I requested this person to oblige me with a ride, which he readily complied with. After we had travelled a distance of three or four miles, the man stopped his horse and went over a stone fence into a field. I imagined lie was going to obej'^ a call of nature : however, I soon observed that he had a very different object in view. In the course of a few minutes he nearly filled his cart with new-cut clover, and there is no doubt that he had made up his mind to the appropriation in the morning. For some £2 52 THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY time before this, I had been driving tlie horse : he now took the reins in his own hand and bade me lie down among the clover, which I was \rery glad to do, and, being much wearied, I was scai-cely down before I was soimd asleep. When the fellow arrived at home, he left me in the cart all night. In the morning, he invited me to breakfast, which was by no means unwelcome. On the previous evening, during our journey, he had made himself master of my history, and therefore knew my condition. This man was a small farmer in Dumfrieshire, and the greater part of the land he rented was uncultivated moor, while here and there a patch was being reclaimed. After breakfast, he asked me if I ivad bide wi' him and herd the hje through the simmer. Tlie fact was, that I was very glad of tl\e ofier, and at once made an unconditional tender of my small services. I had little idea of the nature of my duties : otherwise I should have walked on. I have observed that his cultivated plots of land were laid out in patches on the moors. These little sunny spots were invitingly open to the cattle, as none of them were fenced. I may observe, that cows are just like other animals, whether of an inferior or a superior class : when they once taste forbidden fruit, they are sure to have a desire to repeat the dose. The ground I had to travel over, in the performance of my duty, was thickly covered with stunted heath. If I could have carried my unfor- tunate foot in my pocket, I might have got on swimmingly ; but, as it was, every move I made was tended with the most excruciating pain, and, while the stolen bites of green corn were sweet to the cattle — like the story of the boy and the frogs, the exercise was death to me. Frequently, when I liad to run after the beasts, my very heart was like to break with the painful sensation caused by the heather rubbing against my wounded foot. After I had been at " this place a few days, the mistress of the house himted out a pair of old clogs which she said wad keep the heather/roe my fit. These clogs were a world too large for me, and the very weiglit of the one on my wounded foot was an aggravation of the evil I was enduring : I had therefore to dispense with these wooden understandings. On the eighth or ninth day of my servitude in this place, when in the act of coming home to dinner, I observed the Dumfries mail coming up on its way to Carlisle : in an instant I made up my mind to a second run away. With much OF A BEGGAR-BOY. 63 difficulty I caught hold of the hind part of the coach, and hung on by it for a distance of more than a mile : when I let go my hold I was fairly exhausted, and had to rest a considerable time before I could resume my journey. That night I slept in Annan, in a house where there was a beautiful but heart-broken young wife. Her husband was then lying on his death-bed in the last stage of delirium tremens, I have witnessed many cases of human suffering, but I think this was the saddest and most distressing I ever beheld. Poor unfortunate fellow ! his bed which ought to have been a couch of ease and a place of comfortable relaxation, was to him a living hell, full of tormenting devils ! I know of no more truly melan- choly sight in nature, than that of seeing a strong man suffering the pains of the damned through his own folly. I believe this dreadful scourge to be the severest infliction the law of nature can impose upon those who wantonly violate it, I can never forget that poor heart-stricken woman : in her sorrow she was willing to forget the past and cling to hope for the future. The fervour of her love made her oblivious of her own sufferings, and she was willing to go through the world with her wrecked husband in beggary, if he could only be restored to her. God help her, poor woman ! her hopes were vain, his madness and his pain woidd soon be over ! When I left, he was sinking into the arms of death. On the evening of that day I had got hirpled as far as Langtown, the first and last town in England : there I had a horse for my bed-fellow — at least, we occuiaied neighbouring stalls in the same stable. It may well be said, that povei-ty sometimes gives us strange bed-fellows. The next day I took the road for Newcastleton, and on the way I offered a trifling sacrifice to the god of cleanliness by wasliing my ragged shirt in the river Liddle, and I had also the j^leasm-e of exchanging my jacket with a customer who gave me aU own way in the transaction. The odds were not much on either side ; however, the scarecrow had the worst of the bargain. That night I travelled until about ten o'clock, when I arrived at one of these old-fiishioued feudal keeps, or castellated buildings, which were common on the Border at one time. When I hatl rapped at the door, a young lady came out whose features were an index to a kind and amiable disposition. After I told her my tale she invited me into tho house. The only other inmate was a 54 THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY veuerable-looking old man, with hair as white as flax. When she introduced me, the good ohl gentleman putting a sjieaking-horn to his eai", heard my tale with much seeming interest. Soliloquising to himself he said, "Poor bairn ! Poor ba irn ! One-half of the world does not know how the other lives !" And looking at me he observed, " W/ta kens but this poor I'agged laddie may be a braw chiel yet ? " After this he requested the young lady to prepare me some supper, and while this was being done he addi-essed me in the most kind and fatherly manner. " Mind, my little manniej" said he, " aye put your trust in God, and be sure and keep yourseV honest, and never tell lees. If you do these things God will love you, and be your helper and pi'otector, and you will gain the esteem o' a' that ken you." I was served with a really comfortable supper, after which the young woman dressed my foot with as much care and tenderness as if I had been her own brother. How true it is, that in our hours of illness women are our ministering angels. I lay with the old man, and slept as soundly, and rose as happy, as if I had been a lord's son. What a truly happy provision m nature it is that our cajiacity for the enjoyments of life are to a great extent regulated l)y our condition. With a little kindness, a belly-full of food, and a good night's rest, my mind was as much at ease as if I had no earthly want to provide for. In the morning I received the same kindly attentions ; and when I was preparing for my joui-ney both the old gentleman and his daughter pressed upon me to remain with them for two or three days, until my foot should be healed. I thanked them sincerely, and would gladly have remained, but I knew I could only have a short time to stay with them ; so I bade them adieu. As I left, I wished in my heart that the young woman had been my sister ; I thought in my mind how I should have loved both her and her father. The wish was a selfish one ; but it must be remembered that many of our best actions spring from selfish motives. The desert of life has many bleak and barren passages, over which numbers of the liuman family must pass ; yet there are many sunny spots, where the virtues spring up like beautiful flowers to make our hearts glad. The gall we drink by the way is too often the produce of our own fiAly, and the real honey of life is a firm reliance upon the goodness of God, and a kindly regard for all his creatures. OF A BEGGAR-BOY. 55 The folio-wing night I slept in a farm-house, at the junc- tion of the Liddle with the Hermitage, and the next morning I crossed the ideal line which divides the two kino-doms. The day was warm, clear and beautiful, and 8milin his head, while fording the T}Tie, to lie down with me anil his load in the middle of the stream. This brute was jnjr huhlie jock, and. often gave me much annoyance ; but oji the whole I continued to like my situation, and as T ^rew stronger I felt better able to manage my companion. 66 THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY I had only been in my new situation about four months, when on coming home one evening, I was nearly surprised out of a year's growth liy the uulooked for appearance of my mother. She was now a widow having buried my atep-father about three months before this, in Doncaster, in Yorkshire, she had also the addition to her family of another boy, who was then about nine months old. She had learned where I was when in Bellhighara, and could not believe the fact until she could see me with her own eyes. In spite of all I had suffered since she handed me over to the tender mercies of my father, I was much improved. Whether her affection was resuscitated on again seeing her tirst-born, or whether she thought she could turn me to her advantage, I cannot say, but she strongly pressed me to leave my situation and go with her. At first, I had little notion of leaving, but on being pressed, my heart once more warmed to her and the evil star of my life was again in the ascendant. I was again a vagi-ant, and continued so against my will for years. When I joined my mother, she had only a few shillings' worth of small-ware, in a basket, for six months after this we lived a sort of a scrambling existence, half begging, half dealing. The year 1817, was one of peculiar hardship for the lower orders of the people ; the cereal crop was a failure over the whole of the United Kmgdom. I remember that much of the corn had to be cut in December, and of course was only fit to feed cattle. At this time, and for several years subsequently, the jjeople were in very uncomfortable state of excitement. The six acts of Sidmouth and Castlereagh, were in full force, and the Magiia Charta may be said to have been virtually suspended, as far as the rights of the people were concerned. I am firmly con- vinced, that if the conduct of the British peoule had not been characterised by the greatest forbearance, this country might have witnessed many of the sanguinary scenes which disgi-aced the French Eevolution. Notwithstand- ing the rigid character of the laws that were passed to keep down the expression of public opinion, the govern- ment did not pass without being exposed. The Frencli war had fairly crippled the energies of the people, and its effects hung like a deadly incubus upon the commerce of the nation. At that time the pension list was filled with the names of both men and women, whose conduct instead of being an honour to the nation, was a disgrace to OF A BEGGAR-BOT. 67 iiumanity, and the court of the Prince Eegent had become a reproach to the country, in consequence of its licentious- ness and brutality. Tlie Black Dwarf "was then being published, and widely circulated ; this periodical found its way into almost every triwn, village, and hamlet in the kingdom, laden with the sins of the aristocracy. I cannot give a better illustration of the strong antagonistic feelings which then existed be- tween rich and poor, than by relating a little circumstance which came under my own observation : — There was a young man in Bellingli am, named George Seaton, who had served his apprenticeship with a Mr. Gibson, a saddler. Seaton was a person of studious habits, and an inquiring turn of mind : he was also a very good public reader. Tor some time after the Blach Dwarf mside its appearance in the village, Seaton was in the habit of reading it to a few of the more intelligent working people, at the old fashioned cross which stood in the centre of the village. It must be borne in mind that this Seaton was a person of unblemished cha- racter, and both sober and industrious in his habits. Not- withstanding tliese moral qualifications, when it came to be known that he had imbibed a spirit of radicalism, there was scarcely a farmer in the disti'ict would employ h im This person was a leuial descendant of Seaton, Earl of Wintou, who had to fly his country for his loyalty to Prince Charlie, in 1745 ; and he made some little stir a few years ago in certain circles, when he laid claim to tJie title and estates of his family, and though he was unsuccessful, I have reason to believe that he was the lawful heir. The title is now in the keeping of the Eaii of Eglingtou. While my mother and family continued to travel in the '^allies of the Tyne and Eedwater, we made Hexham oui- home. We occupied a small house on the Battle-hill, but in consequence of spending so much of om- time in tlie country, we were seldom in Hexham more than a few da;)-^ at a time. Upon one occasion when we were at home, I accidentally met with a gentleman of colour, called Petei-s. I believe he was a native of India. He was living at that time in a lonely cottage, ratlier better than a mile fi-om riexhara. This eccentric gentleman took a fancy to me, and invited me to go and live with him as his servant. There was a novelty about the situation that suited me, so I accepted his oiler much against my mother's wishes. Mr. Peters was quite a gentleman, but full of strange eccea- F 2 68 THE AUTOBIOGRArUY tricities. I believe Mr. James of Newcastle, was his guardian ; whatever property he may have possessed at a former period, he must have got pretty well through it when I went to him. I lived with him in his solitary mansion for nearly six months, and acted the part of cook, slut, butler, page, footman, and valet de chambre. During my stay, we had many strange scenes enacted, some of which caused no little gossip in the neighbourhood. The following incident will give the reader a fair specimen of the peculiar taste, and devil-may-care character of the man : — One day during the harvest of 1818, (1 may here notice that our house stood on the side of the road leading from Hexham to the shire of that name), on the morning of the day in question, a large nimiber of reapers passed the house on their way to the hai-vest-field, but the morning coming on very wet, they shortly returned on their way home again. When the party came opposite the house they made a halt, and sent two of their number to get lights for their pipes, but I should say more for the purjaose of seeing how the land lay, Mr. Peters hearing the voice of the party requesting the light, inquired what was the matter ? When I informed him, he requested me to give each of them a horn of ale, I therefore brought the whole squad into the kitchen, twenty in number, all of the amiable sex ! After I had served them with a pint horn each, Mr. Peters rang his bell, and when I answered it, he gave me a most significant look, as much as to say he exjjected a Roland for his Oliver. He said, James, do you think you can manage to keep these people all day 1 Have you plenty of victuals in the larder to give them all a bellyful ? I replied, that I thought they would not require much pressing to remain, and that there was plenty of meat ready for cooking. Very well, he replied, go and give them as much ale as they can take, of course 1 did as I was ordered ! The ale we had on tap was both strong and of a good old age, you may therefore imagine that the ladies' tongues did not remain long unoccupied. After they had swallowed three horns each, the place was worse than ever Babel was in its greatest confusion. Wlien the spring-tide of feeling was being unloosed by the maddening influence of alcohol, the various characters, and idisynocrasies of the dears were brought into bold relief While I was preparing something in the shape of a dinner, Mr. Peters requested mc to send one of the most OF A BEGGAR-BOY. 69 sober of the ladies to town for a set of musicians. When those who could eat were served, I was ordered to give every one a glass of rum some of the more reckless had two. After the musicians came and mingled the sound of harmony with the universal discord of female voices, it would be impossible to describe the scene that followed. I have witnessed many strange sights in my time, but this was certainly without a parallel. If you can imagine yourself in the hold of an emigrant ship, with one-half of the passengers labouring under sea-sickness and unable to comply with the common decencies of life, and the other half mad with drink, you will be able to form about the most correct idea of this living picture I can think of. One young girl who had made herself conspicuous by her maudling, found her way into the cellar, with the intention of drawing a can of ale, and left the tap running, so that when I had occasion to go into the cellar, I found myself up to the shoe-tops in ale. The majority of the ladies remained with us up to ten o'clock at night, and by that time the musicians were fairly floored, their instruments lying in one place and their hapless bodies in another. This truly disgusting scene passed away, and left me a world of trouble in cleaning the place after them. During the accidental visit of these ladies, IVir. Peters made himself at home with some of them in more ways than one. One fine morning, when I was in the act of making ready to go to town upon some message, a pair of suspicious- looking gentlemen inquired if my master was at liome, stating at the same time, that thej' wanted hira upon particular business. I knew the men, and was fully aware tliat any business they could have with him was sure to be particular ! The consequence of this, to me unlooked- for visit, was the loss of my situation and the removal of my strange but really kind master upon a warrant for delDt. While I was in his service, I had been much benefited in more ways than one. I was improved in my manners and considerably polished, by having the rusticity rubbed oft" me, and my clothing was such as I had never worn before. A few days after IVIi*. Peters' removal, I Eaid him a visit in gaol, where he received me in the most indly manner and made inquiry as to my future prospects. His altered condition seemed to make no ditl'ei'cnce in his general buoyancy of temperament, and he appeared as 70 THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY happy as if he enjoyed the most perfect freedom. Poor fellow ! I uever learned wliat became of him. With all his peculiarities, he was really a kind, generous, and w.arm- hearted man. He was an excellent scholar and a most accomplished gentleman : indeed, there seemed to be nothing wanting to fit him for the highest rank in society, so far as his manners and education were concerned. When I returned home, I had to begin my old trade of hawking, which I did with much reluctance. Since my mother had settled in the district, she had regularly continued to increase her property, and by this time she jDOssessed a large stock of goods. In the beginning of the year 1819, my mother took it into her head to visit Ireland once more. AAliat were her motives, I never could truly learu ; but, in my opinion, it was just one of those false steps frei^uently taken by people who are well off and don't know it ! How long she had been preparing for the journey I cannot say ; but there is no doubt she must have been concocting the scheme some considerable time. I am now about relating another of those mysterious impressments, which were doomed to exercise an extraor- dinary influence over my life for several years, and, in all probability, over my destiny itself ! At this time there was a little girl who resided on the Battle-hiU in Hexham, who was somewhere about my own age. She was not ijretty, nor was she good-looking, and she had nothing attractive either in shape or dignity of mien : her eyes were inclined more to the grey than the blue, her make was decidedly dumpy, and, to all intents and purposes, she was a very plain and common-place-looking little lassie. No matter, she was perfect mistress of my soul, and what is more, she never knew it. I loved her in all the purity of my young and unsophisticated nature. We had never exchanged words ; but, unobserved and in silence, I have looked volumes of my heart's best affections at her. She, too, was in humble circumstances ; but her relations were honest working-people, and I was a strolling vagrant. Even then, with our bettered condition, I felt the deep degradation of my condition. My feeling in this girl's regard, which was pure, holy, and lasting, has been to me as great a paradox as my hatred of my father before I knew him. In a psychological view of the case, the subject muy be looked upon as a mere matter of human sympathy. I am aware that people are frequently OF A BEGGAR-BOY 71 drawn to each other by kindred feelings. But this is one of the common laws of affinity ; whereas in my case, the attraction was all on her side, and 1 have no doubt but that the repulsion would have been in myself, if it had been tested. As to what may have been the cause of the impression I laboured under, I am fairly lost, when I come to reason with myself upon the subject : all I know is, that I was chained by an invisible power, and wherever my destiny led me during three years, her idea never ceased to operate upon my mind, and wherever I wandered her image was with me sustaining me under my trials and attracting me towards her. In due course of time, everything was prepared for our ill-advised journey. Like Paddy O'Leary in love, "The place where my heart was you might roll a turnip in !" we passed many of the scenes of my happiest earthly associations, and, as we travelled on our way, I took many a long lingering look behind. Had my mother continued in Hexham and proceeded with her usual in- dustrioiis habits, she would soon have been able to have placed both herself aud family in really comfortable circumstances. I had often wished her to put me to some trade ; but she obstinately refused, nor would she even allow me to go to school. In consequence of her folly, both my brothers and myself were allowed to fit ourselves to play our respective paints on the stage of the woxdd without the incumbrance of education. When we arrived at Portpatrick, my mother took a lodging for us, where she left us in charge of each other while she went over to Ireland. She came back in the course of a fortnight ; but after her return, I oliserved that slie was niucli altered in her conduct to her family and more particularly to myself. I was satisfied in my own mind that I was an uncom- fortable inconvenience to her in some way. Six days after her return from Ireland, 1 made up my mind to leave her, and when I communicated my determination to her, she seemed relieved, as it were, from a lieavy burden. If 1 liad had sense, I might have known that a lad of my years could be no pleasant incumbrance to a widow not much i)ast the prime of life. My brother Eobert, seeing my d«^tcrniination to leave, i-equested me to take him along with mo ; which I I'eadily consented to do. We were fitted out with a few goods from the stock, to the amo\xnt of three pounds, and 72 THE AUTOBIOQRAPHT with this little fortune we sallied forth into the world. I would gladly have gone back to Northumberland, but my mother had left a stiffma behind, in the shape of certain unpaid accounts. We made the best of our way into England, and wandered like a pair of pilgi-ims following a blind destiny. In the course of about six weeks we arrived in Yorkshire. Robert was not able to lend me any assistance, and I was a very poor man of business ; either my pride or my dislike to the trade totally unfitted me for making a living by it ; and the consequence was, that our stock of goods became small by degrees and un- comfortalily less. At the end of six months our little jiack was totally perished. At this crisis of our affairs Robert got home-sick. Seeing, therefore, that he was anxious to return to his mother, I gave him the only money I had, which was three shillings and sixpence ; and with this small sum he set out for Scotland, where he arrived safe, as I learned afterwards. I was once more alone in the world without friends or money. I made application to a gentleman in the hardware business in Beadale, from whom I had made some little purchases while about that place ; be very kindly lent me assistance, and employed me to go with him to the fairs and markets in the North Riding of Yorkshire. As this gentleman did not require my services, I was only upon sufferance : however, one day while I was attending Ripon Market, I met with a gentleman who offered me a situation to travel with him at a salary of five shillings a-week and my board and lodgings. No offer could have been more welcome, and I therefore engaged with him on the spot. I had now entered upon a dangerous career, and had my good fortune not saved me, the consequences might have been of a very serious character. Tills man's name was John Rooney, but he was better known by tiie title of Cheap John ; he was a native of the north of Ireland, and one of the most consummate vagabonds ever manufactured into the shape of humanity. In height, he stood five feet seven inches, well built, l)road shoulders and a little round, strong, well-shaped limbs ; his complexion was fair and ruddy, and he was slightly marked wdth the small-pox. His usual dress was a blue coat with gilt buttons, cord smalls, and quarter boots, and he invariably wore a party- coloured silk handkerchief about his bull-like neck tied in sailor fashion. In temper he was a savage, he knew OF A BEGGAR-BOY. 73 hoDesty only by name, and his sensuality amounted to beastliness. He was as illiterate as a boor, but what ho wanted in education was fully compensated for in low cunning, and he possessed a most retentive memory. The whole of this man's conduct tended to three points in the compass of human action, namely, fighting, whoring, and roguery ! I believe the fellow's natm-e was such that he ■would rather be fighting, than taking his supper after a hard day's work. In one sense of the term he was a lady- killer, and he was continually involved in disgi-aceful intrigues. He seemed to have a feverish desire to ruin married females, and he was continually boasting of the havoc he had made in that line. I have been particular in describing this man in order that you may fully compre- hend the danger of my position. When I went into his service, he had a large quantity of goods, chiefly composed of linen and silks. After I had been with him a short time I learned the whole of his history. The fact was, he made no seci-et of his knavery, and I learned fi'om him- self that he had had to flee his country for killing a man in some party row. His assumed title of Cheap John was not without being well founded, inasmuch as he could dispose of his goods at thii-ty per cent, below cost price, and have the remaining seventy per cent as a small profit to him- self. The goods he had on hand when I went to him were the residue of a property he had bolted from Newcastle- nj)on-Tyue with. His manner of victimising wholesale houses was carried out upon a regular systematic plan ; he was never without plenty of cash, and took every oppor- tmiity of exposing it to advantage. When he had an in- tention of honouring a house with his patronage, his first essay was to feel the pulse of the proi:)rietor, and if he found the party suital)le to be operated iipou, he would make a few goodly purchases from time to time, and after he had disarmed his man of all suspicion, he would write for a small parcel of goods as it were to sort his stock upon credit, the payments for these goods were sure to be punctually made ; having paved the way in this manner, he made his final haid and sloped. I believe there are few counties in England where there are so many pickpockets as in Yorkshire ; the reason of this, I believe, is, or was to be found in the numerous markets and fairs wliich are held in the different divisions of the county. Eoouey was upon terms of intimacy with 74 THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY a number of these free and easy gentlemen ; I remember a very smart trick being done by a highwayman upon one occasion while in Beadle. We were « lodging in a house which was a general rendezvous for travellers, and while jthere three highwaymen made their appearance late one evening ; the fellows formed a ti-io of nationalities, one was Yorkshire, anotlier Scotch, and the third Irish. The following morning was Beadle Fair ; during the course of the day, these three worthies disagi'eed about the division of the spoil of a robbery they had committed the day before in Westmoreland ; in the arrangement of the booty, the Irishman conceived that he had not had justice done him ; the consequence was, that he made up his mind to teach the honest Yorkshireman and the canny Scot a lesson. About eleven o'clock at night, a posse of constables came to the lodgiug-house with a search-warrant ; they walked straight into the bed-room occupied by the highwaymen, and found a large bundle of clothing which had been taken from the head inn a few hours before ; the Yorkshireman and the Scotchman were both sent off to York Castle next morn- ing. The Irishman, in order to gratify his revenge, had stolen the articles, and lodged information wdiere they were to be found, and at the same time implicated his two com- panions as the thieves. What became of them I never learned, but I saw the Irishman afterwards skinning the natives aboard of the HuU and Gainsborough steam- packet. After I had been with Eooney about six weeks, he picked up other two stray sons of misfortune ; one of them was a fine intelligent and good-looking young man who had fled from his apprentices]) ip in a draper's shop, in Shrewsbury ; he must have been very respectably brought ujD, he was an excellent scholar, and in every way a genteel young fellow. From his own statement, he had got into bad company, and in order to keep up his unlawful wants had robbed his employer. The other was in every way a most extraordinary person, his name was Thomas Evans ; however, I imagine it was only assumed for tlie occasion. He was a native of the south of Ireland ; in age he might be twenty-four, and in his person he was as fine a looking man as ever I beheld : he must have had a first-rate education, and it was evident from his manner that he was accustomed to society of a veiy difierent character to such as he was then in. No one could ever draw from him a single syllable, OF A BEGGAR-BOY. 76 either aboiit himself or his connexions. There was evi- dently a mystery about him ; when he was in repose he seemed continually talking to himself, as his lips were seen moving rapidly. Immediately after his joining us, I was drawn towards this man as if it were by a spell, and as long as I remained with Eooney we clung to each other like brothers ; he was as honest as the day is light, and perfectly sober in his habits, and as simple-minded as a child. Eooney frequently used these young men very badly ; when he was in his cups, which was by no meana seldom, he was in the habit of giving them practical demonstrations of his pugilistic proficiency. I have often seen him battering them about for his amusement for half an hour at a time, in the most brutal manner. It may be asked why they did not leave him rather than sufifer such tyranny ; my answer is, that he had them in his toils, and they were both much afraid of him, as they knew his reck- less character. I believe my diminutiveness saved me many a beating, for he really never used me ill in this manner, with the exception of twice. The life I was then leading was m every sense repugnant to my feelings : when I had a few shillings due to me in wages, he always contrived to rob me of them by getting me to play at cards with him ; the fact was, I had neither taste to learn nor inclina- tion to play, but upon such occasions he forced me into tlie game, and as a matter of course won my money. I have no doubt he used this policy in order to keep me in his power. Hand selling was a very common practice at that time, and Eooney was quite a proficient in the business, the feUow could talk a horse blind, and he could string non- sense together by the mile ;* but a great portion of his language was highly indecent, and, as he was entirely without shame, he was completely regardless of the con- sequences of his conduct. Tlie class of hawkers I was in tlie habit of meeting when I was with Eooney, was very different from the primitive strollers on the Bordei-s. Aa a specimen of the former, I cannot illustrate their character better than by a little anecdote. One day, after I had been standing in Eichmond market, and liadjust completed the packing of my goods, a fellow came uji to me, and in the most bland and familiar manner asked me how I was ! » A sort of mock auction, where the auctioneer reduces the price to suit the pui'chasur. 76 THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY I had never spoken to the man in my life, but had often seen him with Rooney ; he insisted that I shouhl go and have a drop of the crater. I did not like to be rude with him, so I weut aud had a glass of ale, and he had one of rum ; after we had finished, he insisted we should have another go, I positively declined having any more ; when he found how the land lay, lie slapped me on the shoulder in a friendly way, and said, " My boy, you'll have to stand this, for, by jaspers, I hav'nt a meg, and I'll stand the next budge.^'' While I was paying for the drink, a number of farmers came into the room, he speedily introduced himself to a group of them, who were seating themselves together in one company. He said his brother was a merchant in India, who occasionally consigned large quantities of rich and costly silks to his care, in oi'der that he might dispose of them. In the meantime he pulled out a five- quarter checked and twilled cotton liandkerchief, with gaudy colours, such as were theu selling at nine shillings per dozen wholesale. Now, gentlemen, he observed, if any of you wish to have etei-nal sunshine at home, here is an article whose magic will produce the so much desired effect. You observe these colours, gentlemen, these living shades and glorious tints were produceil by the fabric being steeped three months in the Ganges, after which tliey were passed through a succession of rainbows ! You must remember, gentlemen, that this article cannot be purchased in the regular market, as all such goods arc prohibited, of course I have them under the rose ! The value of this Thibet shawl in India is ninety rupees, which means six pomids in our money. The fact is, gentlemen, I am a wild devil-may-cai-e sort of a fellow, and have been on the fly and am a little short for cash, if, tlierefore, any of you want a bargain here it is. I have plenty of money, but you know it is not always convenient to be counting the hours in waiting for a remittance from Loudon. After this peroration, he quietly slipped the handkerchief into the hands of one of the gentlemen, telling him at the same time to expose it as little as possible, as he did not wish to come in contact with His Majesty's Exchequer, — and •whispering into the gentleman's ear, you can take it for thirty shillings. SuHice it to say, he sold the nine-penny handkerchief for ten shillings. I have frequently seen simple-minded and credulous people done out of their OF A BEGGAU-BOT. 77 money in this manner. At that time it was a common trick for a fellow dressed as a sea captain to carry a sample bottle of French brandy, passing it off as smuggled, and selling it at a pound a gallon ; the article was gene- rally made up in five gallon casks, and when the stock and the sample were compared, the transaction seemed all right ; these casks were made with tubes to fit through the centre, and only contained about a quart of brandy— the rest of the contents being water,— and as the buyers were as bad in the eye of the law as the disposers, these acts of swindling were kept pretty quiet. Eooney had done a good deal of business with base money ; however, I never knew anything about this matter, until one day we were standing in Lincoln Market, when we were going home to our lodgings he gave me two shillings to purchase beef steaks with. I thought it somewhat strange at the time that he should give me money when he knew I had plenty of change in my pocket. In paying the butcher, I gave him two shillings which proved to be both bad,— the man looked at the money, and then he carefully examined me from head to heel. I could almost have wished the earth to have swallowed me alive, ho sent for a constable immediately, when the officer arrived, I told him what appeared the truth to myself, namely : — that 1 must have taken the money in the market, and to convince the people of my innocence I turned out all the money I had upon me, which amounted to four poimds some shillings, and all proved to be good ; this, with my innocent manner, enabled me to get clear off. Had I been detained, the consequence would have been serious to me, as I would have told who I was with, and I learned that Eooney had a large quantity in his possession, nothing could therefore have saved me from being pimished as an accomplice. After this I was in continual dread of some impending evil, he had used all his endeavours to initiate me into his own roguish prao- tices ; the reason why I did not comj^ly with his hellish desires was, not that I was so much guided by principle, as that I had a natural dislike to tlie barefaced character of his dishonesty, and perhaps fear had no little to do with my conduct in the matter ; besides this, I hated tlie man for his blackguai-dism and open profligacy, and however long I should have remained with him, there never could have been anything like congeniality of feeling between us. 78 THE ATJTOBIOGRAPnY The time I am now writing of was towards the end of the year 1819, during that year tlie whole country was in a state of feverish excitement. The Prince Regent had used every exertion to blast the character of his wife, and hand down her name to posterity with infamy. This event called fortli one universal feeling of indignation in tlie public mind against the Prince and his sycophantic abet- tors. I am not aware of any circumstance in my time wherein the Englisli people gave such unequivocal aud unanimous proof of their love of justice. The fact was, that the more thoughtful members of the community saw that the national character was being compromised, and I believe their unmistakeable protest was the means of saving the honour of tlie nation. From this date up to the year 1832, the country was in a dangerous state of transi- tion. Commerce was crippled in almost every possible way, and the taxes hung like a dead weight upon the industrial energies of the people. The legislative fimctions wore solely in the hands of men who were wedded to aristo- cratic notions, and government patronage flowed in one muddy and corrupt channel, while the members of Parlia- ment, instead of representing the feelings of the nation, continued to serve their own sinister ends at the expense of the people. The introduction of machinery was then creating a panic among the working classes, especially in the manu- facturing districts. Men who had spent their time, and wasted their energies in the various occupations, were doomed to see their labour superseded by an entire new power. The working men had not then lea7-nt the science of political economy ; aud even if tiiey had, it would have afforded them little or no relief. Men with hungry bellies have small thought to spare upon abstract principles of speculative philosophy. Under all circiun- stances, and in all countries, the necessities of the time among the great industrial masses must produce the ruling feeling of the hour. To live has ever been, and ever will he, the great battle of the people. In reviewing the critical position of the country at that time, and reflecting upon the severe ordeal through which tlie people have passed, we have much reason to be thankful that the national barque has weathered the storm. It is true that the people were occasionally guilty of trifling excesses but it must be borne in. mind, that in many instances they OF A BEGGAR-BOY. 79 were goaded into acts of insubordination by the greatness of their sufferings. The manner in which the unoffending and defenceless people were treated at Peterloo, in Manchester, in 1819, afforded a melancholy proof of the utter disregard of the men in power to the feelings and wants of the in- dustrious classes. The circumstances connected with this cold-blooded event will remain like so many foul stains upon the page of England's history. I may observe, that in the early part of the nineteenth century, the middle class element was only in its infancy, and it was not until the wonderful discoveries of Watt, Cartwright and Stephenson were brought into operation that this useful body in the state began to assume its proper position. During the last thirty years, the extra- ordinary energy and directing power of this body have attained for it a moral force unprecedented in the history of the country ; and I think it may be justly said, that whatever social advantages we now enjoy over those of the preceding age, are in a great measure due to the well- timed exertions of this now powerful class. If the signs of the times are to be interpreted by their own manifesta- tions, I certainly think we are upon the eve of one of those social changes which will entirely alter the political aspect of affairs in this country. After repeated trials, the aristo- cracy have been found wanting in the management of the state ; as business men, they are proved to be not up to the mark ; and it would appear, from the broad expression of public opinion, that John Bull, while he is both able and willing to pay his servants, is determiued to put his affairs into the hands of men who can manage them in a . business-like mannei-. In all cases where men are invested with power, it necessarily follows that a good deal of it must be discretionary and irresponsible ; in state affairs this is particularly so, and I think the more such a condi- tion of things can be narrowed within the limits of a responsible system, the better for the nation. A system may be made to appi'osimate perfection, though it be not in the nature of man to arrive at such a state. LETTEE YI. Alloa, November. Mt dear Thomas, — I have lately seen a speech delivered by Lord John Eussell, which was addressed to a meeting, held in Bristol, in the early part of this month. In this speech his Lordship lias made a discovery which could only be found out by a man profoundly conversant with all the secret springs and motives which regulate the various actions of human nature. His Lordship deplores the cala- mity (not of the war, nor of the many evils consequent upon it) that we have not an impartial historian ! I cer- tainly think if his great mind had not been entirely ab- sorbed by this one grand idea, he might have also dis- covered our want of an impartial statesman I ! ! Had there been one single man in either of the late Administrations with sufficient energy of mind and honest determination of character, to have boldly taken the helm and cast aside the rubbish of routine, which every- where lumbered the deck of the vessel of State, and called to his assistance a sufficient number of able-bodied men from the ranks of the people, the countiy would have been saved the disgrace of the disasters which have lately befallen the nation, in consequence of the blundering inca- pacity of its misruiers. In the speech above alluded to, his Lordship cavils with Mr. Macaulay for a poetical fancy he has indulged in, or rather a philosophical reflection, in his History of England. Arguing from analogy, the his- torian concludes that Great Britain will be subject to the same unerring laws which regulated the destinies of the ancient kingdoms and empires of the world, and he has ima- gined that the time may come when some American prying Layard will contemplate the ruins of mighty London from the crumbling remains of some of her bridges ! ! Lord John's patriotism takes alarm at such an unlikely conclu- sion. I wonder if his lordship imagines that because we are a great nation, cause and effect will cease to operate upon each other, and that progression with us will only end with time. His Lordship stated that aU the great nations of antiquity had the see ot making a fortune were not to be realised ; besides, neither of us were fitted for the business. After vainly pressing upon me to give it another trial, I left him and went back to Elsdon, where I got employment in making hay. Shortly after this, I met with a person, a native of Yorkshire, who was then residing in that part of the country : this man persuaded me to go with him to the harvest, to which I readil}' agreed ; so, when the hay season was finislied, I went down with him to see a farmer for whom he had worked the previous season. Tlie farmer engaged Smith (which was the person's name) ; but he demurred to employing me, as I looked so very unlike the work. However, Smith made tliis all right, by kindly offering to take me as his partner. Our journey that day Avas the hardest day's work I ever had in my life : when we got back to Elsdou, we had travelled sixty- two miles. When the grain was ready for reaping, we went to fulfil our engagements. I had never cut corn 'oefore, and suffered most dreadfully during the first week : however, with the assistance of my kind and good-natured partner, I managed to give satisfaction. We were employed for three weeks, and had our board and lodging in the house, both of which were excellent in quality. We had each a guinea a-week, and had the good fortune not to have a single broken day. When the harvest was finished, we went to Newcastle, where I spent a good part of my money in clotlies. When I went back to Elsdon, I got employment during another week in shearing ; after which I went to Hexham, in the expectation of meeting with some tradesman who would take me as an appi'entice. On arriving there, I went to a person of the name of Ealph Dodd, whom I had known when we resided in the town. This pei'son allowed me to job about his place of business for a few weeks, for which he gave me my victuals. During the time I was with him, 1 studiously avoided being seen by the little angel of my adoration. I was still ashamed of my position, and was afraid, if she should see me, that I should lose — what I never had, namely — her affections ! — a blind, and a stupid fellow is love ! I dare say Dodd would have readily taken me as an OF A BEGGAR-BOY. 85 apprentice, but he had no confidence in me : he could not brhig his mind to believe that I would allow myself to be chained so long to one place. This misfortune of having been kicked about the world was, therefore, held as a reason that, like Van "Wooden Block's cork leg, I should continue to wander on. After I had been in Hexham a few weeks, the Northum- berland militia was about being raised. At that time, the men required were baUotted for. Several militia societies were then in existence, and when any of the members were drawn, substitutes were paid for out of the funds. Some of my acquaintances persuaded me to take the bounty, I was then beneath the standard height, which was five feet six inches. This, to me, apparent difficulty, was got over by a young man, a tailor, who made me all right by padding my stocking-soles. I dare say 1 am not the first who has been elevated to the army by fictitious means. I passed the doctor and was duly attested to serve my king and country according to the conditions. My bounty was nine pounds. The first thing I did was to purchase a few shirts and other necessaries I stood need of. I then laid out six pounds in the purchase of tea : I had been advised to this step by several of my friends. Witli this stock, I was on a fair way to become a regular travelling merchant. I was then certainly in a better position than I had ever been during my whole life : I was full of hope and saw before me a bright future ; and in all my calculations my sweet little mistress came in for her ideal share. The fortune and pleasures which I had conjured up in my sanguine imagination were doomed to share the same fate as those of the young man in the Arabian Nights. Just as I was about tasting of the sweets of fortune's cup, it was ruthlessly dashed from my lips. I took my cargo of tea upon my back, only dreaming of the pleasant reception I should meet with from my old acquaintances among the country farmers. I was respect- ably dressed, and was sure of having my honest endear vours well supported. When I had got about two miles on the road, 1 met a gentleman going into the town. He inquired what 1 had in my bundle 1 Without tlie least suspicion I tuld him. He then asked me to let liim see my permit. I did not as much as understand the nature of such a document : so, seeing that I could not oblige hjm in this matter, he said he would be under the necessity of seizing it in the name of the king. The truth of the. 86 THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY matter now flashed upou my mind like a death kneil. My poor heart became full ; and I felt a choaking sen- sation about my throat. For some moments I could not speak. When I had time to think I thought I was doomed to misery. Again, desolation stared me in the face. I mentally resolved that 1 had better been struck dead by some invisible power than be ever thus the spoi't of a wild and hapless fortune. Whatever I thought I said nothing : the fellow asked me to carry the parcel back into the town, for which act of condescension he gave me a shilling. Never was there a poor wretch more innocent of the sin of smuggling than I was. I had no idea that tea bought in a regular market required in the first place a permit to remove it, and in the second, that I required a license to be allowed to sell it. 1 therefore lost my ail and had no redress ; and was again thrown pennyless upon the world. To console me for my loss, several of my friends said that I must have been uiformed against, and that the person who sold me the tea knew the necessary con- ditions, and that if he had been an honest man he would have given me proper information how to act. This of course was making my case no better, and I could not believe that any person could have been so heartless as to do me such a gratuitous wrong : I had never injured any one, and therefore no person could harboui* revenge- ful feelings against me. Once more I had a stormy pilgrimage before me, and like a vessel at sea without a rudder, I was cast adrift to steer my course ujjon the ocean of life. I could see nothing before me but a dreary wilderness, nor could I tell which way to fly from my impending doom. It is a fearful tiling for a Inunan being to stand alone in the world ; cut off from all sympathy and fellowship with his kind. Such was my sad and cheerless condition. I know there have been thousands placed in similar ch-cumstances ; but I also know tluit many have suflered shipwi-eck under the pressure of their misfortune ; while only those who have been buoyed up by hope have been able to wea- ther the stoi-m. If my mind ha/e'r aboot entering into an engagement ji/ell never fulfil. Tak' my word for'i, ye'll never see the end of a seven years' THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A BEGGAR BOY. 105 apprenticeship, as skere as I'm a leeving woman ! I ^ere," said she, "ye've seen ow'er mucJcle o' the icarld, arC been ow'er mucMe yonx ain master to lindergo the drudgery of a hatter's apprentice. But," she continued, " if ye be a gude lad, and stick to yer warh, I'll do ony thing for ye that lies in my power." The good old lady fulfilled this promise whenever I gave her the opportunity of serving me. I had the pleasure of falsifying her predictions, but she did not live to see the end. I have mentioned that this sort of feeling continually apposed my settling down in life. Tliere was not one in a thousand who knew me but would have expressed the same opinion. This sentiment was strengthened materially by my age ; and when you reflect uj^on the drudgery and menial duties of a hatter's apprentice at that time you cannot feel surprised. Being the only apprentice in the house for two years, I had all the water to carry from a considerable distance. Twice a-week I had to collect stale lant {urine), from a number of jjlaces where it was preserved for me : I carried this fragrant liquid on my head, and had often the agreeable pleasure of having it streaming down my face. When I was bound I knew all my duties, but I had firmly made up my mind under every trial to conquer, and I may say, that firmness was not the least prominent trait in my character. About a fortnight after I had en- tered upon my new duties, the harvest set in, and as my master was not busy, I got liberty to spend a fortnight in reaping. The money I earned at this employment enabled me to purchase such clothing as I stood most in need of. "When I tell you that my salary, after being boarded and lodged, was only one shilling a-week for the first year, with a rise of an additional sixpence each year, you will agree with me, that the produce of my harvest labour was a very acceptable relief. Small as this sma was, I could have managed witli it very well ; but poor Eutherford (my master's name) could very seldom afford to allow me to be cashier of my own money. It was in this year (1822) ■'hat that exemplai'y monarch, George the Fourth, paid his Scotch subjects a I'oyal visit ; a,nd while the natives of Auld Reekie were bowing their loyal knees before their virtuous king, the unsettled state of the monetary system was crushing and paralyzing both the commerce and industry of the nation. About this time, too, Castlereagh had quietly given himself a passport 106 THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY to the othei- world ; and there were some among the people who thought there was something like retril)ution in the act. From this date up to 1832, the working men of Great Britain continued to take a lively interest in all the great political questions of the day. George the Fourth had broken faith with his Irish subjects upon the Emancipation question ; after which Dan O'Connell formed the Catholic Association. This combination rallied to its standard some of the most brilliant talent which Ireland could boast of, and many of the peals of thunder which shook the walls of Conciliation Hall vibrated throughout the length and breadth of the nation. The artillery of the association continued to pour the red-hot balls of its eloquence into the camp of the enemy ; and such was the efficiency of its practice, that the Government required, upon more occa- sions than one, to fortify the State gari'ison by special Acts of Parliament. Notwithstanding these precautions, O'Connell continued to demolish both the entrenchments and the batteries of the enemy as fast as they were formed. At one time the Government imagined that the wily lawyer was completely hemmed in by a line of circumvallation : even then he slipj^ed through their meshes, and set their power at defiance, and, as a consequence, rose higher in the estimation of his countrymen. From this time forward, for many years, Cobbett continued to expose the short- comings of the Government, and point out to the people the numerous abuses which were allowed to exist. His tei'se Saxon style of language appealed to the sense and understandings of all classes. Blackwood, then in the zenith of its Tory ])ower, tried to put the plebeian down, but the Corinthian lance only " dirled on the bane." The Black Dwarf, too, thundered away at the state paupers, and made the character and condition of a large portion of the proud aristocracy pass in review l)efore the people. About this time the British press was beginning to assume a tone of something like independence. The trial of J/wtV, Palmer and Skirving, combined with the Peterloo affair in Manchester, had roused a feeling of indignation in the minds of many men who were not of any party or political creed, against the tyrannical conduct of the governing party ; indeed, it seemed evident to the minds of a large portion of the thinking community, that corruption and misrule had become intolerable, and that it was time the nation should be allowed to breathe the air of freedom ! OF A BEGGAR-BOY. 107 So far as my new condition was concerned, I may say that my existence was just as imvaried and monotonous as that of any ploughman. I certainly had to put up with many inconveniences, and sutTer much hardship ; but 1 knew that the most of the difficulties I had to encounter were the common lot of all the apprentices in tlie trade ; I knew, too, that the battle of life was before me ; and I had firmly made up my mind to overcome every difficulty. My conduct made me many warm and generous friends, who really took a pleasure in serving me ; and when I had a holiday to spend, I never wanted a home in the most pleasant meaning of the term. You will agree with me, that there is something strange and unaccountable in what I am going to relate. After I returned to Hexham, the being who had exercised such a mysterious influence over my life and actions for such a length of time passed from my memory like an indistinct shadow in a dream. It seems to me now, when I reflect, that her guardian spirit had fulfilled its mission, and quietly withdrew ! When I had frequent opportunities of both seeing and speaking to her, I passed her as I would an utter stranger. How this cold insensibility in regard to her took possession of my mind 1 never could say. For three years she had held me in the most delightful bond- age. For her, I had aspired to the position of a free and independent member of society, and when I was about realizing tlie glorious dream of my life, the magic of her mysterious power vanished ; the sweet spell was broken by some strange power, and she faded from my memory like a thing that had never rested there ! Twice I had been the subject of strong embodiments of unaccount^.ble thouglit : the one was pure and unalloyed hatred, and I never knew the cause ! the other seemed love in its most dreamy and holy sense,— indeed, there was not a particle of dross in the desire. Before I had seen my father I knew not what sort of a man he was, eitlier in person or charac- ter, aud yet I hated him as if he had been my most deadly enemy. It was certainly a strange idea for one so young to have been possessed with an ill-will against a person he never knew, and more particularly wheu'that person was his own fother. There was something in my love, too, if I can call it by such a name, which was equally unaccount- able ; and the vanishing of that feeling without any a_ppa- reut cause was a crowning mystery. When men begm to 108 THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY analyze their thoughts, I believe they will find many feel- ings, and even lasting impressions, which are calculated to exercise powerful influence over their actions, baflle all their philosophy to account for them by the ordinary rules of investigation. It may be, that there are certain occa- sions when we are liable to receive impressions from invisible regencies, or perhaps such things may arise from the peculiar idiosyncracies of our nature : there is also a possibility that we are sometimes acted upon by sympa- thetic susceptibilities, the origin of which lies veiled in the impenetrable arcana of the Divine will ! The time is nigh at hand when my suspended affections are again to be brought into action. When T had been in Hexham about twelve months I was accidentally intro- duced to a young woman whose name was also Kitty. We shortly became mutually attached to each other, and all the feeling I had had for the other returned, with its train of pleasing anxieties, and were concentrated in my new love. After this I continued to do my the cause, I did not blame the working classes, who were then paying men to think for them, and in whose wisdom and prudence they had trusted the management of their affairs ; but I certainly felt disgusted with the mercenary horde, who were not only deceiving them, but were also guilty of the treachery of misleading them. Perhaps there never was a greater farce j^layed off upon the creilulity of the working classes of Great Britain than that of the People's Parliament. I grant that there were a few honest men among the members of that august body, but I certainly think their judgment wijs of a very questionable character. On the other hand, the great majority of the members were a set of hungry knaves, who embraced the opportunity of turning their spouting qualifications to their own mercenary account. From what I knew of the character of some of these would-be leaders of the people, I have always been impressed with the idea, that poor John Frost was a victim of treachery ! ! I was personally acquainted with many of the men whose names figured in these exciting times. My friend Dr. John Taylor, whetlier from some infatuation or design, identified himself with all the madness of the Chartist movement, 138 THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY and was among those emissaries who endeavoured to get the people to rise, and rush upon their own destruc- tion. When thtse men wei-e in Manchester and Birming- ham, they told the people tluit the men of the west of Scotland were all armed and ready to rise hi rebellion, and only waited the co-operation of their bretlireu in tlie south ; and while in Glasgow the same story was told of the people in the manufacturing districts south of the Tweed ! ! All I can say is, if these men -were honest they must have been mad, and if not mad, no conduct could have been more infamous. While Julian Harney, Bronterre O'Brien, M'Dowall, Taylor, and others, were inflaming the minds of the people, Feargus O'Connor was amusing the world, disgusting sensible men, and bringing scores of poor people to misery by his memorable land scheme ! I am convinced that O'Connor was perfectly honest in his intentions, and that he was sanguine of the entire success of his strange abor- tion of a plan for the redemption of the people ; and there can be no doubt, that if he could have made his scheme a practicable one, it would have been the means of bettering the condition of a large portion of the population. The idea of possessing land, if it were only six feet by three, is a pleasing one. When we know that Sir Walter Scott plunged both himself and others into irredeemable diffi- culties from an insane desire to possess landed property, we cannot wonder at the alacrity with which numbers of the people seized upon the agi-arian bauble, and it is well known how many of tliem have suffered for their honest credulity. I think I may affirm without fear of contradiction, that not one in ten of the Chartist leaders escaped moral shipwreck. It is only a very short time ago that one of these gentlemen, whose matrimonial connection was surrounded with a tinge of romance, left his wife and family in a state of helpless destitu- tion, and made his way to the diggings, where I believe he is existing as a wandering outcast. The great misfor- tune which befel many of these men was their falling into intemperate habits. Besides this, some of them, after leading lives of indolence, and assuming the character of gentlemen, could not lower their pride, nor allow them- selves to i-eturn to their ordinary avocations. I believe John Collins of Birmingham, and Lovett of London, to have been two well-meaning honest men, and with them I OF A BEGGAR-BOY. 139 may class Mr. Vincent : the two latter I knew more by report than experience, but I was intimately acquainted with Mr. Collins. Like every other respectable man who had passed through the trying ordeal of public agitation, he was a decided loser, both in a jDecuniary point of view, and in his domestic comforts. After John had retired into private life, and was succeeding to make a comfortable living for his family, some of his foolish friends carried him into the Birmingham town council, where he had not been long until he became divested of his reason ! The intended emute of 1848, is scarcely worth a passing notice, were it not that the Government made such a fuss about it. The leaders upon that occasion were utterly contemptible, and are not worthy a place in the history of small political events, or even to be named with the insane but honest leaders at Bonny Muir. At all events, they were not- like Ossian^s heroes, " Who never court the battle, nor shiin it wl.ea it comes." I had only been about eight months in Greenock, when I was fairly stranded on the lee-shore of poverty ; and to crown my misfortunes I was afflicted with a most terrible malady in the shape of sciatica. My family, which had increased by one in Greenock, I now removed back to Glasgow ; when I got there I intended applying myself to ray trade. I knew I never could be badly off while I could work at my business. This hope soon vanished, and left myself and family ui desolation. I got emjiloyment with Mr. Thomas M'Gregor. When I went to make an essay at my work, 1 utterly broke down, and was not able to stand on my limbs five minutes at a time. I shall never forget the crushed state of my feelings on leaving the shop, with the assistance of a staff ; I had the greatest possible difficulty in getting along the street. While I was in the act of limping along, and enduring the most intense suffering, I met a gentleman with whom I had been on terms of iuti- mac}', who on seeing my unfortunate condition, exclaimed, "My God, Mack, what is the matter with you ?" I told him I was like to faint with p;tin ; he took hold of my arm, and assisted me into a public-house close by. Before we left, I had buried all my iutirmities and the cares of life in whisky. My friend and I had finished our imperial pint each ; and I went home in a state of comfortable oblivion, and my sufferings were non est until the following morning. You 140 THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY may imagine that my prospects were sufficiently gloomy for any Christian man. However, my hopes became brightened once more ; for while I was in the act of sinking, a friendly hand was extended to me. Several of my old acquaintances, when they learned my circumstances, sub- scribed the sum of twenty pounds, and made me a present of the money at a diimer-party. With this sum I bought the license of a public-house from a person who was leaving town. This transaction turned out very unfortunate, when T obtained the license, I foimd it was not worth a farthing, in consequence of the previous holder not having procured a magistrate's certificate for the current year, I purchased the license in May, and the certificate should have been renewed in April, in order to make it available. Here, again, I was in a (Ulemma, of a very uncomfortable, character, and I did not know which way to turn for relief. I was obliged to leave the house, where I was not allowed to carry on the business. I therefore took a couple of rooms for my family ; and as I was totally unfit for any employment, inconsequence of my disoi'dered limb, I made up my mind to go into the infirmary, where I was sure to have the first-class medical assistance. The superintend- ing physician ordered me to be put imder a course of mercury, by which means he anticijiated a cure from a change in the system. In the course of little more than a week I was reduced to the weakness of an infant ; after this I was plied with naiiralqic medicines. I remained in the house for five weeks, and came out no better than when I went in. At this time no man with his neck clear of a halter could have been in a more uncomfortable position. If my own fate had only been at stake, it would scarcely have given me a thought, but the idea of the condition of my wife and family pierced my heart with the daggers of burning reflection. Before I had left the " Hatter's Arms," a lodge of Odd Fellows of the Independent Order of the Manchester Unity was opened in my house. This was the first introduction of the society into the west of Scotland, and in a short time it spread its branches over the whole of that part of tlie country, which was in a great measure owing to my la1)ours, as you will learn by and by. I had paid a good deal of attention to the character of this institution, and ■was satisfied that if it was conducted properly it would be of signal service to the woi'king classes, as it ofi'ered them OF A BEGGAR-BOY. 141 the advantages of mutual assistance in case of sickness or death. I knew that many futile attempts had been made during the whole of the beginning of the nineteenth cen- tury, by the working men of Great Britain, to institute Friendly Societies, whereby they could make suitable pro- vision against the hour of trouble. In nine cases out of every ten, these praiseworthy efforts ended in failure, in consequence of the societies being founded upon a wrong basis. The fact was, that in all these attempts the men were working in the dark, inasmuch as they had no data to direct them. Indeed, it is only within the last thirty years that public attention has been directed to this branch of political economy. During that time the labours of Neisom, and other actuaries, have furnished statistical tables, which are now used as infallible charts both for Friendly Societies and Insurance Companies. I took it into my head to give a lecture upon the character and objects of Odd Fellowship. After having arranged the heads of my subject, I delivered a lecture both in Glasgow and Greenock ; after which I published it in the form of a pamphlet. I realized a few pounds from this labour, but during the whole time I suffered the most excruciating pain, so much so, that in a very short time the hair of my head had changed from black to gray. In the latter end of the year 1839, I was sent for by the Odd Fellows of Edinbui-gh, to deliver a lecture in the Freemason's Hall there. I went as requested, but owing to my trouble it was with the greatest possible difficulty 1 was enabled to perform the duties of my mission. When I returned home, I was seized with typhus fever of the most virulent character ; and to fill the cup of my bitter sorrow, my whole family, witli the exception of my wife, were prostrated at the same time. I never was the man to repine under affliction. The difference between life and death with me has always been a thing of small moment, inasmuch as I have ahvaVs had an unlimited confidence in the goodness of God, 'and a just appreciation of my own infinite littleness. Upon this occasion, I owed my life to tlie medicnl sicill, and un- wearied attention, of my friend Dr. Archibald Johnston ; and while I am writing this, I feel an inward satisfaction in thus giving expression to the lasting and grateful sense I feel of his never-to-be-forgotten kindness. I have often had opportunities of witnessmg the untiring 142 THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY zeal, anxious solicitude, love, and devotion of women, when ministering at the couch of sickness. But in all my ex- perience I never knew a case of so much heroic devotion, self-abnegation, unwearied attention, and self-sustaining love, as that exhibited by my own wife upon this occasion. During nine days and nights she never had her clotlies otf, and she was the only nvu'se we had to wait upon six pa- tients. The younger members of the family soon recovered, but I lingered for two months. When I was just suffi- ciently recovered to move about the house, the over-"fetrained system of my wife gave way, and she, too, became pros- trated. It certidnly was a very fortunate circumstance, that she was bLssed with strength and courage to see us all through our Uness, before she was seized with the dis- ease herself. I feel called upon in th is place, botli roportions. The park has lately been laid out upon a modern plan for a new tovni ; and within tlie last five years, a splendid pleasure-ground has been added to the town where the inhabitants can both find health and pleasant recreation. Derby has also been much improved both in its social and physical character. This town was once famed for its manufacture of fancy articles in alabaster, the material for which is found in abundance in the neighboui-hood. This business has been superseded to a great extent by the introduction of ornaments in Parian marble, or rather an imitation of that article. The leading business in Derby is now, and has been for some years, the manufacture of silk in various articles. This OP A BEGGAR-BOY. 161 place has also greatly extended its ancient boundary, and the town has been embellished with a beautiful Arbore- tum. When I was in this part of the country first, there was a great number of houses both in Nottingham and Mansfield excavated out of the sand-stone rock, and it was no unusual thing to see cows feeding on the tops of the houses. These primitive habitations have all been swept away by the rolling flood of modern progress. In my recollection, Aberdeen has been ornamented with one of the most handsome streets in the United Kincrdom, and I am certain that it will be the most durable, as all the houses are built of granite.* During the last forty- five years, Birmingham has undergone the process of an entire change in its physical aspect : the railways have disembowelled it with their subterranean passages and gigantic stations ; while its proportions as a town have been more than doubled. During the last twelve years towns have been springing into existence at intervals along the whole of the trunk-lines, and the old towns and villages along the great highways of the nation are crumbling into decay. The great north road is becoming an elongated desert, and the glory of Leaming-lane is now no more. There is one class of towns which seem to set the laws of progress at defiance. Time may crumble them into decay, and their inhabitants may succeed each other like vegetables in their seasons ; but the innovation of what is called modern improvement can never reach them. I mean the cathedral towns. How these relics of antiquity are preserved from the inroads of modern Vandalism I cannot say ; but I am glad they are allowed to remain : in my mind they are invested with a melancholy grandeur, and as they battle with old time, they increase my veneration. I have always observed that there is a coincidence between the inhabitants of these towns and the sombre character of their old temples, which form, as it were,a bond of sympathy. It may be that these venerable piles, with their gloomy magnificence and stately grandeur, exercise a species of tranquil contentment over the minds of the inhabitants, that bids defiance to all ideas of change in their notions of the order of things. As the headlong current of change rushes on, and the mania of progress rages in its thousand forms, these old towns will continue to stand like as many castles seated on rocks in the ocean, defying the winds and • Union Street M IG^. THE AUTOBIOGRAPUT waves. I would ask, who is there that has any feeling or respect for the memorials of the past, that would wish to see the old piazzas and the galleries "above the rows" re- moved in the venerable city of Chester, or the old " gates " in Yoi'k or Norwich substituted by modern streets 1 In my mind, the modern wise men of Carlisle have destroyed one of the principal beauties of that ancient city, by remov- ing the north or Scotch gate, which in my time stood like a landmark between civilization and barbarism. In the language of one of our beautiful modem poets, I would say — " liCt trade and commerce die ; But may no Vandal hand destroy . The monuments of ages long gone by 1 ! "• When I retired from business, it was into the private life of j)overty. After having disposed of the tavern-property, and paid my debts as far as the proceeds would admit of, I was left without a sliilling to commence the world in some new line. The poet has sung " that man ever is but to be blest ;" if rapid changes in condition of life, and strange transformations in my social position were at all conducive to such a happy state of existence, I sliotdd liave been doubly blest. However, I have proved the falsehood of poor Burns's misanthropical idea, '" that man was made to mourn." My hope has at all times been greater than my misfortune.s, and in my storms I have cheerfully anti- cipated the coming calms. A few days after descending from my inglorious throne in the unhallowed temple of Bacchus, I obtained a temporary engagement with an old friend, who carried on the business of an engraver and lithographer. I remained with tliis gentleman for twelve months, at the expiration of which time, in consequence of a number of unfortunate circumstances, his business had all but bid him adieu. Shortly after this, I entered into an agreement witli another person in tlie engraving busi- ness who was bringing out a system of book-keeping for the use of schools ; he wished me to introduce his new work in the midland counties of England, and to be in keeping with myself, I undertook to push an untried article into the market at my own expense, by taking the business on commission ! If I had had the sense of the merest tyro in business affairs, I would certainly have allowed the person who was likely to have received the benefit of the speculation the honour of paying for its introduction. You * Lord Somebody 1 OF A BEGGAR-BOT 163 will therefore see, that this engagement is another of my blunders, and one which comjaletely turned the future current of my life into new channels. During the time I was in Glasgow, which was close upon twenty yeai's, I can confidently affirm that no man was ever blessed with a larger round of friends, and what is of still greater importance, they were not of that class of people who will eat a man's dinuei', drink his wine, and give him the cold shoulder when he is without a dinner himself I know it is impossible for a man in comfortable circumstances to steer clear of sycophants, who, as long as the sun of prosperity shines upon him, will ply him with the base coin of friendship, and when the tide of fortune ebbs, will fly from him like rats from a falling house. This class of jieople have their use in the social economy, and wlien fortune changes their conduct carries with it a useful moral lesson. I could name many gentlemen whose gene- rous and disinterested conduct to me will hold a fresh place in my memory as long as that index of the past continues to exist. I do believe that no man ever disap- pointed his friends more than I have. I have always been an intelligent man, but my friends took me for what neither God or nature intended me to be, namely, a clever one. This is the very subject upon which I mislead my own feelings. I really imagined that I was a clever man ! I may, therefore, say that my character through the best part of my life has been a living lie, and at the end of fifty years, I am more disappointed in myself than I have been in all the worhl beside. I never liad any trouble in analyzing my own mind, and could tlierefore put my hand on my weak points ; but strange as it may appeal", I have ever allowed my pride and confidence to retain the whip hand of my judgment. With all my numerous imjierfec- tions, I know that I am not without many of those feelings and virtues which lend a charm to our nature. Few men have a better appreciation of riglit and wrong, more en- larged views of the god-like principles of civil and religious liberty, a greater toleration for the weaknesses of other men, or can feel for the sufferings and misfortunes of their fellows more sensitively. This may be called egotism, but you will remember, that I am endeavouring to give you a true history of my life ; and if I did not show you the nu- mei'ous springs in the machinery of my mind, which have from time to time prompted me to action, you might fre- M 2 164 THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY quently arrive at wrong conclusions. I am aware that the great bulk of men give themselves no trouble in inquiring into their peculiar organizations, or the causes of their various impulses, and therefore they leave themselves as they are ; but I certainly think it is a wise proceeding, for a man frequently to examine the state of his own mind, and balance his little accounts, he will find, in com- mercial phraseology, that short reckonings make long friends. I am now about entering upon an entire new career, and the next five years became, perhaps, the most eventful in the whole of my chequered life. The gentleman I had entered into the engagement with, buoyed me up with the flattering expectation that the commission on his business would be worth at least three hundred pounds a-year. " The qiide forqie me to believe him.''' I therefore sold otT my household furniture, and removed my family direct to York, where I took a house with the laudable intention of making that city the centre of my operations. I went to work like a man who had made up his mind to be in earnest, I was full of ho^ie, notwithstanding the advice and prognostications of many of my friends before I left Glasgow. My first essay was a failure, but that did not dishearten me ; I imagined that I had not got on the right ground. I then swept the country in a goodly circle, when I had the cheering satisfaction to find, that my imdertaking was a dead failure. I had spent all my money in removing my family and paying railway fares, and in the course of two months, I was brought to a dead lock. In the latter end of April, 1850, I removed my family to Leeds, where I took a small unfurnished room, and all we had to put in it was our bedding. The first night we occupied this place was during a severe fi'ost, and as our bed-clothes had not arrived, having been sent by rail, we were obliged to lie upon tlie bare floor, and to make the matter worse, my wife was within a short time of her con- finement. For some days after being in Leeds, I really did not know what to do, there were five pair of jaws to find employment for, and I could see no possible way in which it could be done. In my worst times I have gene- rally found something to fall back upon in my own resources ; so after steeping my brains in reflection, I hit upon a scheme which relieved us for the time being. I remembered that I had an old friend ia^radford, so after OF A BEGGAR-BOY. 165 I had arranged the heads of a lecture upon the character and poetry of Eobert Burns, I went over to that place, and got my friend to lend me his assistance in disposing of a number of tickets, which he readily complied with. With his assistance, too, I took a hall for the purpose of deliver- ing my lecture. The event came off at the appointed time, and I realized four pounds after paying the expenses. While in Glasgow I had published a small volume, being " A Historical Sketch of the Independent Order of Odd- fellowship of the Manchester Unity." At this time I had one hundred copies of the work in my possession. I was personally known to most of the leading men in Leeds connected with the society ; so I made application to the district officer to purchase my stock of books. This gentle- man brought the subject before the district committee, who readily agreed to give me one shilling a-copy for the whole I had on hand. I was therefore in clover once more. After this I spent a few days in Leeds, in an endeavour to find some employment, but was unsuccessful. I left Leeds, and took my family with me to Liverpool. I had no more business in going there, than to other places I could have made choice of ; and I can scarcely say now what motive prompted me in the selection of that place, in preference to others more comeatable. "Whatever we may think of our free-will, there can be no doubt, but we are often impelled forward in our careers by a directing power over which we have no control ; and such seems to have been my case in this instance. I was therefore carried headlong into a stream of contending circumstances, and like a chip of wood amid the boisterous waves of a stormy sea, I was dashed hither and thither without any controlling power of my own. I knew several people in Liverpool who were in comfortable circumstances, but as they were only holiday acquaintances I did not make my ca.se known to any of them. Tliere was one gentleman, however, tn whom I liad rendered some little services while he resided in Glasgow, He was then holding the situation of a ware- houseman to a large shipping firm, and he had the em])loy- ing of the men who were required to do the work of the establishment as daily labourers. This gentleman offered me employment upon the same condition as others, which was, to take my chance for the work when there was any to do. Til is oiler was crippled with a conilition that I could scarcely ever account for, namely, that I shoidd never 166 THE AUTOBIOGUAPHT speak back to liim ! Before he left Glasgow, he held a very comfortable, and at the same time a somewhat responsible situation, but like many others he had committed himself by abusing the trust reposed in him. The matter, how- ever, was not serious, but being humbled in his own esti- mation he left the town. Like every other man who had not been used to hard labour, and unencumbered with a character, he had to pass through a severe ordeal before he could obtain a fresh standing in the world. This, however, he accomplished by dint of industry and steadiness. I am therefore led to suppose, that he was afraid that I might expose his previous conduct, which certainly would have been the last thought in my head. I was too glad to know that he had recovered his character to think of doing him an injury ; indeed, I looked upon his conduct as worthy of all jiraise. I was well-pleased to accept his offer, as my finances were again exhausted, and my wife on the eve of her confinement. The first work I was put to was that of turning grain, and I was kept at this for four weeks in succession. Now, turning grain, like any other manual labour which a man may be accustomed to, is very simple work. With me it was anything but simple. During the first tliree weeks I was at it I thought I should have virtually fallen in pieces. My loins and back were in a state of open rebellion, and every muscle in my body was in arms against the employ- ment, and my spirits required to exert all their influence to keep the mutinous crew in order. During the first week I could not sleep in my bed at night, in consequence of a legion of aches and pains jJuUing at me in all direc- tions. If I could have. thrown off twenty years, which I found an actual incumbrance to me, I dare say I should have felt no inconvenience after the first few days. Age certainly has its advantages, but I found by experience, that they were not to be realised in turning corn. It is one of the misfortunes of humanity, that men cannot keep the barometer of their minds up to the degree of equanimity imder the pressure of dift'erent circumstances. One even- ing, as I was shutHing home, with spii-its almost crushed, and my body in the most intense state of suffering, while I was passing along Lord-street, and going through a pas- sage where there was a scaffold, erecteil for the lepair of some house, I felt an irresistible desire that it should fall upon me and bury me in the ruins. I hate more than once OF A BEGGAR-BOY. 167 felt life a burden, hut I never knew the desire to shuffle oft the mortal coil so strong, as upon this occasion A few minutes brought a holier reflection ; I knew that there were more deserving men than myself exposed to sut- ferinc^s much greater than mine, and a hasty examina- tion soon proved to me my own littleness, and I went home with the gloom off my mind. The second evening after this, on my way home, I met a gentleman I had known intimately while in Glasgow. This person had been the shuttlecock of the fates to a surprising degree ; a few years before this time, he was lessee and proprietor ot the Adelphi Theatre iu that place, and had been favoured while there, with the sunshine of popularity in no small degree. It was nothing strange to see Mr. David Prince Millar at one time bounding over the waves of fortune, m aU the buoyancy of happiness, comfort, and affluence, as if he were in his usual element; and at another, holding on by some wreck in the stormy sea of poverty. His difficulty in life was precisely that of my own, he had talent for everything but business ! and carried on his shoulders a world of 'experience, which was the same to him as a miser's gold, being neither of use to himself nor anybody else. Men seem t"o be created for all kinds of pursuits, but it frequentlv happens, that great numbers of tliem get into the wrong places, and therefore lose the opportunities of turnu)g their peculiar talents to advantage. A short time before 1: met Mr. Millar, he had made a successful hit m Liverpool, by giving a series of entertainments in the Music Hall, in reciting " The ups and downs in the life qf a showman." With the money he realized upon that occa- sion he went a starring into tlie surrounding villages, and, as usual with him, he came back to town penniless. \\ e made mutual inquiries concerning each other's condition and prosjiects, and at the same time, neither of us were blessed with the most Inmible representation of majesty ! It would appear that Mr. Millar was cast ujion the world when he was a mere boy, tlie consequence of which was, that he had to struggle through it as best he could. One little anecdote will suffice to show how the lives of certain classes of peo])le liang upon the cha])ter of accident. During his early peregrinations, while putting up at a common lodging house in the city of Norwich, he met m with a man who was making an excellent living by one of those little fortunate secrets which men occasionally get 168 THE AUTOBIOGEAPHT hold of who exist by their wits. This man's secret was the precursor of the now universal lucifer match ; he dealt in little boxes filled with a composition of phosphorus and resin, which, by a little friction, produced an illuminating effect ; these boxes he sold at two shillings and half-a- crown each. Millar, although only a boy, was sharp enough to know that the material of which these boxes were made could only be trifling, lie therefore made up his mind to obtain the secret. With this idea in his head, he watched the man when he was going to purchase his materials at a chemist's shop, and shortly after he called at the same shop, as if he had been sent by that person to purchase a shilling's worth of the stuff, stating that he had forgotten the name ; the material was readily supplied, and without further instructions he commenced operations in his new business. Not having the means to purchase tin boxes, he procured wooden ones, and he disposed of his new un- patented illuminators for two-pence each. It happened, as he was hawking his boxes through the public-houses one evening, he met in with a person who belonged to that nondescript class of men who live by the honourable pro- fession of assisting the magistrate in suppressing vagrancy, and otherwise supporting tlie laws. This gentleman made an attempt to pilfer one of Mr. Millar's boxes, but being cauglit in the act, he immediately had the lad up before a magistrate on a charge of selling a highly dangerous article ; he affirmed that tlie illumijiating boxes were made for the express purpose of house-breaking, and other mid- night robberies. The sapient magistrate i-equired no fur- ther proof of Millar's guilt, and he characterized the crime as being one of a most heinous nature, and to mark his sense of it, and at the same time vindicate tlie outraged laws of his country, he sent poor IMillar to improve his morals and his muscles on the tread-mill for fourteen days. In those days, common jails and houses of correction were the best of all possiljle schools for improving the morals of young men, and expanding their ideas in the principles of professional roguery! If Millar was not benefited by his fourteen days' training, it was no fault of the worthy magistrate. I have often observed that there is a species of old womanism about many of the provincial magistrates that is really quite refreshing. In the discharge of tlieir very important duties, they wisely take care ne\^r to err on the OF A BEGGAR-BOY. 169 side of mercy ! The peculiar happy manner in which some of these gentlemen frequently apportion the punish- ment to the ofi'ence, is a proof that their virtuous feelings are more in keeping with the letter than the spirit of the law ! ! I have frequently been puzzled, while listening to some of these sage dispensers of justice, and have been confounded by their matchless wisdom, when moralizing upon some two-penny crime against property, by a juvenile tyro in roguery. Men who are filled with the importance of their ottice have a right to expose their dignity to the best advantage, whether they are adjudicating upon large or small matters ; with them it is of the utmost consequence that their oicn feelings should be satisfied in vindicating the law. I liave no doubt but the worthy Mr. Shallow, of Norwich, went home after consigning Millar to the house of coi'rectiou with the self-satisfaction of a man who had performed a highly meritorious action ! ! ! I have intro- duced this little incident to show you how much some men are the mere sport of fortune ; if Mr. Millar had not been fully initiated in the principles of roguery before he was sent to the mill., I certainly think it must have besn hia own fault, if he did not learn many useful lessons while there ; and there can be no doubt, but he returned to the world with pleasant notions of magisterial justice ! In reference to the phosphorescent boxes above alluded to, I have no doubt but the idea of our present lucifer match may have had its origin in that simple contrivance. I have heard it asserted, that Jonathan Martin was the first who conceived the idea of a metallic pen, by having used a piece of tin instead of a qulL By-the-bye, I had the honour of being acquainted with this gentleman. My first introduction to him was in 1825, shortly after he had made his escape from a lunatic asylum in or near Bishop Auckland'; at that time he was selling an historical Sketch of his life. Four years after this, I was a witness to the conflagration that immortalizes his name, and consigned his diminutive person to St. Luke's Hospital, where he ended his career * A few evenings after this, I met another old Glasgow ac- quaintance, who had jmnped the Jim Crow of life under a • Jonathan Jfartin imagined that he was deputed hy Almighty God to pull down the Established CIniroh, and reform the religion of the country. In order to c;irry out these views, he set fire to York Minster, in 182!», by wliich a great portion of the building w7ith such a mere worldly jiolicy. It is true, tliat men in their every-day dealings with each other, frequently tres- pass upon each other's rights and privileges ; but it must be borne in mind, that this deviation from the rule of right is often forced upon them from necessity rather than choice. Let it not be sujjposed tliat I am an apologist for wrong-doing ; my object is rather to prove that our natural impulses, if left free from the influence of pressing circum- stances, would lead us in an opposite direction. I think every man who has been brouglit up under the influence of anything like proper training, must be continually under the control of a regulating monitor ; of course much will depend on the susceptibility of this silent 182 THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY prompter. It is true, that certain classes of men are liable to be placed under circumstances which are calculated to blunt tlieir conscientious scruples; but the man who is in this condition demands our pity rather than our hatred. Every man has a knowledge of his own circumstances and condition in life ; but he can only form a very inade- quate idea of tlie influences which regulate the conduct of others. I have frequently been impelled to the perform- ance of actions from the sheer pressui-e of circumstances, against which my better natm-e revolted ; and such I believe to have been the case with many others who have had to do battle with the world. It must be remembered, that the perfection of our nature is a thing only to be hoped for after we have shuffled off this mortal coil ; and when men have time and the will to look into themselves, they will have little room for fault-finding in their neighbours. It is a fact taught by every-day ex])erience, that every state and condition of life has its difficulties, and tliat wherever humanity exists, it must bear the burden of its infirmities in some degree or other. I have called your attention to this subject, that you may see the danger of the debasing feelings of en\'y and unmanly i-epining ; and that while you observe the ever active machinery of the social system, you may never fail to act well your own part. Frugality and improvidence may be said to be two of the principal land-marks which lie in the path of working-men ; the one should be a continual guide by which we should steer our conduct, and the other should be looked upon as a beacon to apprise us of the rocks and shoals of intempe- rance, which every way surround us on the journey of life. Forethought seems to be in a great measure, a charac- teristic of man ; this faculty enables him to look forward to the contingencies which may await him on the morrow. The man who forgets that he owes both himself and society the exercise of such a forethought, is indeed, a very unworthy member of the community. I would, therefore, advise you to use every necessary caution within the limit of your means to provide against future wants. It is a fact in moral science, that every good is liable to abuse by perver- sion. I know of no feeling so truly gi'ovelling and sordid as that which possesses the save-all member of society. The moment a man commences a career of hoarding money merely for its own sake, he snaps asunder the bond of .sympathy which connects him with his kind. Money is OF A BEGGAR-BOY. 183 merely a simple pledge, which men receive m exchange either for their labour or some representation of it. La- bour is, therefore, the only true wealth in the world Money was made to be used as a convenient article ot barter • and we use it instead of exchanging the produce ot our labour, which would often be both inconvenient and troublesome. The man who saves money for the love ot it, is frequently an enemy to himself, by denymg himself those necessaries which it was intended to furnish him with There are other two evils which arise out ot ttiis saving propensity ; in the first place, he destroys the bar- tering efficiency of the cash for the time bemg, and thereby prevents the good its circulation would otherwise pro- duce m society ; but the most serious evil is the deadening influence it would exercise over his own character, m steeling his heart against all the kindlier feelings of his nature. A little reflection will convince you, that the proper line of prudence lies between these two extremes It is a fact, that the standard of men's respectability in all civilized countries, is measured by the amount of wealth he possesses. This estimate of character must have its origin in something like a just appreciation of right, inas- much as it exists by universal consent. The knowledge of this fact, furnishes an excellent motive to prudent and industrious habits. This state of public feeling has also its dark side, inasmuch as riches frequently gild vice in the false glitter of seeming virtue. The prestige of wealth has a still more dangerous consequence to a large portion of the community than what can arise Irom its immediate corrupting influence. This is to be found in a feelmo- of exclusiveness which it produces m the minds of its votaries. Strange as it may appear to us, as members of a free country, there exists a vei-y general ■ feelinfr against- men who presume to push tliemselves upwards upon the scale of society ; the opinion both ex- pressed and felt upon this subject, is, that they are actmg against a recognised rule. The doctrine is therefore, that if a man should be born a blacksmith, ho should remain 80 I am aware, that there are hundreds ot men, who, although they feel in their hearts the injustice of such a doctrine, are, by the force of public opinion, prevented from avowing the true sentiments of their minds. A\ hatever men may feel upon this subject, there is one thing certain, that well-directed energy backed by habits of industry and 184 THE ATTTOBIOGRAPHT common prudence, will always make way for itself in spite of the cold conventionalisms of the world, or the aristocratic notions of those whom chance has kicked into comfortable berths ! It may be supposed that T have made these observations in a snarling temper ; but no, I am arguing this question from the expei'ience of others ; for in so fiir as T am con- cerned, if any man ever stood between himself and the light of the sun, I am he ! It will therefore be seen, that in my own case, I have nothing to complain of. Perliaps, it would be better for society at large, if more respect were paid to character than to the extrinsic trappings of mere wealth ; if such were the case, the fortuitous power of riches would stand a chance of being reduced to a more rational standard. From my experience of the social system, I think it is very questionable, whether a more equal distribution of property would be beneficial to the community. Riches furnish an immunity from physical labour ; if, therefore, wealth was more equally divided, it is very likely that in- dustry would be crippled in propoi'tion, and as a conse- quence, society would be a loser ; this contingency, however, is amply provided against by the very nature of man's inequality. The knowledge of men's mental and physical disparity, as well as their difference in habits of frugality, must have first dictated the law of primogeniture, in order to preserve family property by hereditary succession. I tliink upon the whole, it matters very little whether the riches be held by one class or another, inasmuch as there will always be a select few who will possess great wealth. This imequal state of things has existed in all civilized countries within the range of history ; and I am convinced that tlie same oi'der of things will con- tinue to the end ! In a well-regulated condition of society, both men and money are sure to find their level ; and I am convinced, tliat the needy man, who would lend him- self as a willing agent to pull down the fabric of the social system, would, in his turn, become a violent con- servator, as soon as he liad his share of the spoil .' In our experience of all the states and conditions of society, there is one thing which cannot help forcing itself upon our obser- vation, which is simply this — that honesty of character, and kindliness of disposition, form the best passport to the esteem and consideration of those we associate with in our dady transactions. It is a happy consideration, that men of OF A BEGGAR-BOY. 185 all sorts of temperaments and constitutions are able to find kindred souls and congenial spirits, in which they discover an echo of their own feelings. I think it may be admitted, that nearly all our friendships have their origin in this wise provision of nature. It has been said that friendship is the solder of society, and in my opinion, it is a glorious cement. That condition of existence which is best calcu- lated to bring the generous feelings of our nature into action, is by far the most happy and rational. Men's good actions are the flowers which spring up in the garden of humanity, and make tlie paths of life delicious with their sweet odours. These flowers spring in every condition of soil, from the lowest to the highest. The friendship of the peasant is as warm and devoted as that of the peer ; and the love of the beggar may be as pure and holy as that which charms the soul of royalty. It is a glorious attri- bute of the divine law, that the measure of our joys is not regulated by our positions in life. Herein lies the whole poetry tliat surrounds the human family, and lends a charm to the feelings of the humblest as well as the greatest. Our second source of education, is through the medium of public teachers ; these may be divided into three classes. The first of which are the schoolmasters, whose duty it is to prepare the rising generation for the active cai'eer of life. The second are the clergy, to whom is enti-usted the highest order of human instiniction. The duties of these men ai'e of a two-fold character ; tlie first is to teach tlicir flocks the science of revealed religion, in which the rules of faith of the various sects are unfolded. In this depai-tment of education, reason is made subservient to belief! The second division of clerical teaching, appertahis to moral ti-aining ; in this department reason is appealed to as the regulating principle of human action. The next source of education is derived from public lecturers. Tlie teaching of this class of men is generally confined to an exposition of the laws of nature, as exeni])lified in the development of the arts and sciences. In all civilized nations, whether ancient or modern, the clergy have possessed nearly the sole power of directing the public mind. In many instances, this body has been above the civil power ; under such cir- cumstances, they possessed the sole directing power over men's consciences ; of late years they have been lirought within the pale of the civU law. It is a fact worthy of notice, that the generally accepted code of morality among 186 THE ACTOBIOGRAPHT the civilized family of men admits of no dispute. The various classes and denominations of men may have as many standards of faith as they please, but it is a happy con- sideration that we can only liave one standard of morality. Our different weights and measures may vary in their pro- portions ; this we care little for, as long as each denomi- nation is true in itself. I have frequently observed that men are more liable to forget the duty they owe each other, when their notions upon religious subjects are in opposition. It is certainly somewhat strange and ano- malous, that when we imagine we have formed correct opinions in regard to abstract ideas or principles, we should take such trouble to force these opinions upon others, whose impressions are different from our own, but whose convictions are equally .strong ! The law of nature, which prompts men to propagate their opinions and distri- bute their ideas, is one of those grand conceptions of the Divine will, whereby men are enabled to enlarge each other's views, and contribute to each other's happiness, without any diminution of their own. The manner in which men abuse this heavenly attribute is worthy of notice. When a man is deeply impressed with any principle, or abstract notion of rule of conduct, so that it becomes to him a settled conviction, the very possession of the idea gives him the right to propagate it ; but it must be borne in mind, that the moment he interferes with the liberty of his fellow-meu, by using coercion in forcing his oi)inions upon them, he violates the first principle of that liberty which God has decreed to all men. When men use violence in enforcing their religious opinions, they act in opposition to the Divine will ; and the only consideration they require to direct them in the matter, is to reflect as to how they would wish to be treated by others ! Were it not for the violation of this principle, the teaching of so many conflict- ing dogmas by the numerous sects, which each seta up as its own standard of perfection, would be comparatively harmless. The fiict is, the principle of religious liberty is only beginning to be understood. Even now toleration is looked upon as a charitable license allowed by one class of the community to another ! While I am writing, the legislature is engaged in repealing some hundred and twenty old musty penal enactments. Some of these monu- ments of the wisdom of our forefathers were in active use only a few years ago, and were used for the laudable pur- i OF A BEGGAR-BOT. 187 pose of preventing the human mind from expanding more rapidly than the time could afford. The country will owe the sweeping away of these legislative deformities in a great measure to my Lord Brougham, whose comprehensive and liberal mind has suggested so many valuable improve- ments in our legal code during the last forty years. I think, on the whole, that the great diversitjr of opi- nions taught by the different religious denominations in this country, has its value in keeping alive the mental faculties, and acting as a useful spur to honest ambition. As long as men act with charity towards each other, the diversity of their thoughts and o];)iuions constitutes one of the greatest beauties of the social system. In looking at religious associations in a mere worldly point of view, we cannot fail to see their utility. There is an evident wisdom in the frequent meetings of large bodies of the people for the purpose of public instruction ; but when we know these gatherings are set apart for the worship of the eternal God, our minds become inspired with a venera- tion corresponding to such a holy duty. The congregating of men in public ))laces for the service of God, is well cal- culated to withtlraw their minds from the everyday con- cerns of life, and humble them in their own estimation. The last member of my proposition, refers to the quiet teaching of books. From my own experience, I would say, that well selected books, not only furnish us with useful instruction, but they also convey to our minds a source of silent pleasure not to be found elsewhere. I well remember when the glowing liistories of Greece and Eome opened up to my mind their wondrous treasures, with what avidity I devoured their contents ! In my mind, a book is the living depository of the author's feelings and sentiments upon the subject of which he treats ; and whether he writes for pay or pleasure, he must leave honest traces of his thoughts upon its pages, whether he will or not. The abstraction from the busy world necessary for reading, is well calculated to enable us to digest the mental food, and thereby assimilate its chyle with our previous stock of knowledge. If the subject matter of a book is not directed to vicious purposes, the author is sure to convey, through the medium of his own style, some valuable information or pleasing matter to his readers. The peculiarities of style is a striking characteristic among authors, and cannot fail to impress ua with their 188 THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY varied modes of arranging and classifying their ideas. It is in this strange condition of the human mind, when acted upon by different temperaments, that men's idiosyncrasies ai'e made patent to tlie world. I cannot do better than give you an illustration of this peculiarity or mannerism among authors. If Mr. Carlisle was requested to describe any common-place occurrence, he would be sui'e to clothe the subject with the peculiar tints of his own mind. The in- verted construction of his sentences would stand out in bold relief, wherein his mind would be labelled in legible charac- ters. While reading his eifusions, one is forcibly reminded of travelling upon a rugged road, or of being tossed on a cross sea. The lofty and dignified diction of Sir A. Alison con- trasts strangely with the terse Saxon of the late William Cobbett. In the latter, we have the plain solid architecture of the ancient Gothic, and in the other, we have all the beauty and elegance of the florid style, with its graceful mouldings, fancy ornaments, flying buttresses, and handsome pinnacles. Each have their beauties. Alison's is well calculated to convey to our minds the majesty and world-wide import- ance of his subject, while that of the other, is slngulaidy adapted for a slashing onslaught on public abuses. The contrast between Burns and Campbell is equally stiiking with the above. In Burns, we have the plain Doric, with its simple and homely ornamentation, while in Campbell, we have the Corinthian in all its grandeur and magni- ficence. Notwithstanding the beauty and elegance of Camiiboll's style, his poetry wants the magic of that homely feeling which all men claim as a part of themselves. The kindred feelings of humanity are bound together by one simple cord, and this may be looked upon as the electric wire through which the sympathies of our souls are communicated. The man who can successfully cause this cord to vibrate in unison with our thoughts and affec- tions must be inspired with the genius of poetry — and such a man was the ploughman bard. I think it will be admitted, that there could scarcely be a greater difference between two men, than that wliich characterized the minds of Pope and Byron. Both their styles and modes of thinking were of a different caste ; yet it is a curious coincidence, that their satii'es would almost appear to be emanations of the same mind. The bold slashing vigour of some men's writing contrasts strangely with the quiet flow of gentle feeling which characterize that of others : the one puts us in mind OF A BEGGAR-BOY. 189 of the mountain torrent as it rushes through the vale or breaks in foam over the cataract ; while the other reminds us of a smooth running river, on whose surface the moon- beams play amid the gentle ripple of its waters. There is both a grandeur and beauty in the style of Byron peculiarly his own ; but, poor fellow ! he unfortunately looked down upon the world from a false point of view. Although we are carried away by the magic of his manner, we rise from the perusal of his works with the two-fold feeling of pity and wonder. We pity him for his small estimate of human nature, and his want of faith in the higher characteristics of man ; and we are impelled by a sense of justice to acknowledge the surprising majesty of his perverted genius. It has been said that the writings of Voltaire, Paine, and others of the same school, were calculated to unsettle men's minds in reference to the leading principles of religion and morality ; but I am fully convinced, that the works of these men never exercised such a demoralising influence over the minds of their readers, as did the works of Byron. He scofted at the whole family of man from the vantage ground of his great intellect, and treated the highest aspirations of their minds with giant levity. In speaking of poets, we should bear in mind, that, in an intellectual point of view, they are an exception to the rest of men : the construction of their minds and all their modes of thinking are peculiarly their own, and their happiest home is in the glorious regions of ftmcy. The temperament of a poet is incased in a framework of keen susceptibilities. There is a spiritualisation in his constitu- tion that is unknown to ordinary mortals : his imagination clothes the humblest objects of his thought in beauty, and he lends a charm to common things which cannot be discovered by vulgar eyes. Love to him is a pure etherial flame, that warms his soul with the fire of heaven. I have ever observed that the genius of poeti-y loves to dwell where sanity has ceased to wield her sceptre with sovereign sway. Cowper worshipped the muses when reason was tottering on her throne. The mind of Swift often wandered in the mazes of madness. Oliver Goldsmith's life was spent in the fairy land of imagination, where he endeavoured to exist beyond the cold realities of the world. Tannahill,' one of the sweetest lyrical poets of Scotland, passed through the valley of life beneath a dark cloud of melan- 190 THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY choly. The transient existence of Burns was surrounrled with deep shades of mental gloom, and Loi'd Byron was a victim to the curse of hypochondriaism. It will be seen, that in criticising the woi'ks of poets, we should make allowance for their state of mind. 1 be- lieve, that the man who devotes the whole energies of his mind to any single pursuit, either in connection with the arts or sciences, is sure to become an enthusiast. It will follow, that the concentration of his faculties to one object will necessarily weaken those powers of his mind that are over-taxed. Tlie nervous system cannot be over-wrought with impunity. It is a curious fact, and one which I have often had occasion to notice, that the class of men em- ployed as clowns in places of public amusement, are inva- riably the victims of hypochondriaism ; and I believe such to be the case with nearly all men wlio are obliged to tax any particular faculty of the mind beyond the point of endurance. The law of nature, that governs the human system, is always true to itself We cannot enjoy any great amount of excitement, without suffering a corre- sponding depression. Tlie madness of poets may thus, in some measure, be accounted for. I am firmly convinced, that no man can be a poet, in the true sense of the term, whose heart and soul is not fairly engaged in it. His imagination must feel the electric influence of creative power, and his fiincy must be for ever on the wing. His appreciation of the beauties of nature must be far above that of tlie common herd ; and above all, he must feel within himself those passions that for ever agitate huma- nity in its tenderest parts. If the poet suffers the depress- ing consequences of an over-strained mind, he also enjoys the ravishing delights of revelling in his own beautiftd creations, and he possesses the balmy pleasure of knowing that he has contributed to the happiness of others. From the time that Homer bowed his knee before the lovely Nine, through the succeeding generations of men, poets have been in the van of civilization. Their soft numbers have exalted women, and smoothed the rougli asperities of man's rude nature. The glorious firmament of heaven has supplied them with innumerable images, and earth and ocean have furnished them with never-ending subjects. The joys and sorrows of humanity, in the ever-changing panorama of life, has been their constant theme. They have played with our feelings like an Indian juggler with OF A BEGGAK-BOT. 191 his balls, and they have amused us with our follies until we have become our own sport. When they loved, it has been our own, and their patriotism has been our love of fatherland. The " Cottar's Saturday Night," de- scribed by Burns, was no ideal picture of a humble but happy home ; and we love it the more because of its truthfulness. The meretricious trappings of the sons and daughters of fortune are not the true symbols of poetry ; its regions ai'e in the warm affections of humanity, in the homes where peace and contentment love to dwell, whether in the busy town or the peaceful vale. Prattling innocence and venerable age, the ripening heai't in love's sweet thrall, and the happy union of kindred souls, have ever been welcome food for poetic minds. All men must feel a poetic influence steal over their senses in occasional moments of inspiration ; there is a sublimity in a man dividing his crust of bread with a hungry neighbour— in the act he obeys God through his own generous nature ; our feelings of admiration may therefore be excited by acts which appear trivial in themselves, but when seen cor- rectly, are mattei-s of deep importance. It has frequently been asked. What is poetry? My opinion is, that it is merely a truthful pictui-e of nature, wherein the objects are arranged, and garnished according to the fancy of the artist. I cannot illustrate this better than by a quotation from Bums, wherein he says, " Gie me a canty hour at e'en. My arms about my dearie." You will observe that this is a very homely way of ex- pressing the poet's sense of enjoyment ; but its poetic excellence lies in its truth. The desire here expressed is that which all men feel under the influence of love. The following little homely, but beautiful images, are from Tannahill : — " Saft the craw-flower's early bell. Deck Gleuiffer's dewy dell, Blooming like thy bonnie sel', 5Iy ain, my artless dearie, O ! Tow'riiig o'er tho Newton Woods, Laverocks, f"'Mt the snaw-white clouds, Siller saughs wi' downy buts. Fringe the banks fou' brderie, O I" In these stanzas, we have a beautiful combination of the most homely images ; but they are true to nature, and tlie object of the poet's devotion finds a place in our own aflfections. 192 TUE AUTOBIOGRAPHY Perliaps tlie best criterion of measured verse is the power it exercises over our feelings ; and this is the simple secret that makes the humblest members of society as good judges of true i^oetry as the most learned savans. I believe there is no better method of finding the social character of a people than through their lyrical poetry. I may men- tion the fact, that in this department of literature, England is far behind both Scotland and Ireland. The lyrics of both these divisions of the kingdom are full of animation, and they bring before the mind's eye all the leading cha- racteristics of the people. The homely, but expressive vernacular of the Scotch is well suited as a vehicle for their poetic effusions. The Irish lyric poetry is full of broad rollicking humour, and plaintive feeling, while that of England is dull, lifeless, and insipid. There is one tiling strikes me forcil)ly, — that if we want to find good lyrical poetry, it will not be among the higher orders of civilization. In this case there are certain con- ditions of life fiivoui'able to the outpourings of human passion ; and I believe the middle state of a nation's exist- ence to be the one best calculated for such a purjjose. The age of superstition is peculiarly one of poetry, when men's minds are kept alive by supernatural agencies. Eew men have possessed the power of lending a charm to instruction in the happy manner exercised by Sir Walter Scott. His style was quiet, natural, easy and playful. The fanciful graces of his truly great mind were scattered like beautiful flowers through the whole of his works. His numerous descriptions were living pictures of nature's scenery ; and tlie personages of his dramas were real human beint's, acting, feelinfj and conversing in accordance with the times and circumstances that surrounded them. He had the honour of making a new discovery in the boundless field of literature, by making fiction subservient to history, and no man ever cultivated maiden soil to better advantage. Books, to me, have ever been welcome companions. Through their pages T have often held converse with the mighty dead. In some, my own thoughts and feelings have been reflected as if in a mirror. In others, I have made new discoveries in the regions of thought, and revelled midst new-born delights. Often have I been carried aloiig the stream of history into the dim vista of time, where men lived in the dream-land of human infancy, OF A BEGGAR-BOY. 193 and have watched the opening and expanding of tlie mind of man, until it became like " gods, knowing good and evil." Wliile I was in Otley, my love of reading forced upon me the necessity of learning to write. This I f mnd no easy task ; however, I mastered it sufficiently for my purpose, and the possession of this little acquirement has often been of no small value to me. In scanning these different sources of instruction, you will observe, that eacli possesses a relative value. The hard, practical lessons of the world are necessary to enable us to i^erform our respective parts upon its busy stage. Eeligion is calculated to smooth our paths to heaven, and, if taught in a spirit of love, so much the better. And books give us the experience of thoughtful men, who lay their knowledge before us like so many free-will offerings, and enrich us by the possession of that which taketh nothing from the donor. In bringing before you the various methods of obtaining instruction, my object is to show you how ray own mind and actions have been affected by the unfinished processes through which I have passed. I think I have proved that my experience of the world and its teachings have not been of a very limited character. I am obliged to confess that my education in this department has been a complete failure. Although my teachers have been as various as my different positions, and much of their instructions forced upon me by the necessities of my condition, yet have I always been a dull dog. The materials and ad- vantages of social standing are things that have always passed rapidly through my hands, and T believe, no amount of worldly training cnUd ever have made me otherwise than a temporal custodier of such things. My worldly wisdom has always been confined to acting upon the im- pulses of my nature, more than any sordid desire to seize hold of the advantages wiiich lay before me. A generous and liberal view of the character and motives of such members of society as business or pleasure brought me in contact witii, have at all times, influenced my conduct in a greater, or lesser degree. I have ever found, that mere worldly education, when acted upon as a rule of life in business matters, is calculated to produce two results ; the one is the saving of money, and the other is the loss of the more generous susceptibili- ties of our nature. Upon an impartial examination of my o 194 THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY own character, I find that I am unfitted for the sharp en- counters of commercial warfare. I neither possess the confidence, nor the cunning necessary for such an enter- prise, and I have been personally acquainted with scores of men similarly constituted. It has been well remarked, that "the race is not always to the fleet of foot, or the battle to the strong." The great secret of worldly prospe- rity is to be found in a oneness oi thought, or a concentration of the mind to a given purpose. Depend upon it, it is not your clever men who are the best calculaterl to steer them- selves down the stream of worldly prosperity, even though they may be placed in it by fortuitous circumstances ; much less are they able to take advantage of the spring tides that leads to fortune. I have found that tliei-e are only two classes of men who can appropriate the fruits of their industry and hold them in reserve. The first of these are your plodding men, who have made up their minds to be trustees to society, and who, in the pursuit of their callings neither turn to the right or to the left out of their waj', to suit the circumstances or convenience of anybody else. The second class are the men of decided talent, whose genius fits them to play a variety of parts on the stage of life. In the second department of social instruction, I have received much valuable and pleasing information both from pulpit oratory and public lectures. But I must con- fess that my most important information has been obtained from books ; there is a quiet pleasing enjoyment in ligliting up our own knowledge at the torch of another man's genius which we can feel much better than express. Books are the telegraphs by which 'men's thoughts, feelings, and senti- ments are transmitted from one generation of the human family to another. The electric sympathy of mind con- tinually runs tlirough the conductors of the mighty press, and we receive the currents of thought as we are more or less prepared for tlieir reception. The light of knowledge bursts upon some men like tlie rays of the sun just emerged from behind a dark cloud ; while to others it gradually opens up its imfolding beauties like the dawning light of a spring morning. Books are undying monuments of the genius and intellectual gi'eatness of those who have passed over the journey of life, or of others who may yet be way- farers with ourselves. If the spirit of the Almighty .speaks to us through the boundless works of his creation, Intel- OF A BEGGAR-BOY. 195 lectual natures are the interpreters of his language, and they explain to us the use of all things in the economy of the universe. Books are the repositories of these wonderful ti-anslations ; by their aid our thoughts expand into the dignity oi' lofty feeling, which enables us to form a more exalted idea of the sublimity and goodness of the Eternal Fabricator of all things. The choice of books should be made much in the same way a man selects his friends, that is, they should only be valued for the innocent pleasure or good counsel they may afford us. The best aid to reli- gion, I hold, is to be found in the New Testament. His- torical books may be ftiirly placed at the top of all other soiu'ces of human knowledge ; in this class we have the true character of man in all the phases and conditions of his existence. After histor}% I would recommend works upon the arts and sciences ; these give us an insight into the workings of the human mind, whether directed to the invention of articles for the uses of everyday life, the noble conceptions of the painter, or the divine inspirations of the sculptor ; tlie profound researches of the mathematician or the philosopher, who takes a wider range in the great field of the universe in arranging and classifying the works of creation, and thereby exposing to our admiring senses the beauty and harmony which pervades through all nature, whether in the distribution of plants and minerals, or the of-der and arrangement of the lieavenly bodies. The next useful class of books, after these, may be said to be such as treats of the common humanities, In this walk of litera- ture we have an inexhaustible store, which, if well selected, are calculated to aifunl a continual source of both pleasure and instruction. I would have you bear in mind that those books that teach us the beauty of kindliness and forbearance in our intercourse with each other are at all times to be preferred. I hold that there is little good to be learned from those men who seat themselves above the common order of humanity for the purpose of finding fault with all who do not come up to the standard of their own assumed excellence. There is a snarling arrogance in the cha.racter of such men that is peculiar to themselves, I have no doubt but they have their use in the economy of the world ; but one thing is certain, however much we may admire them for their talents and force of genius, we never can love them for that amiable virtue which, while it reproves, commands our affection. The satirist who o 2 196 TUB AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A BEGGAR-BOT. works with a saw will never correct the follies or vices of men in the same degree with him who wields a razor ! There are other two classes of books which I think are perhaps more useful on their shelves than for any other purpose to which they can be turned. The first of these are the works of maudling sentimentalists ; these books are full of language without meaning, and pretty flowers without fragrance ! Among them are the measured effu- sions of men who do not possess sufiicient specific gravity to keep them on the earth ; their works are, therefore, too starry for common mortals ! ! The second class, comprise the works of authors who manufacture plots and incidents to suit distorted minds ; the persons of their little dramas are made up of exaggerated shreds of humanity, who think and act under a lunar influence, and therefore continually outrage all our common notions of congruity ! From the above observations, you must not suppose that I am opposed to all works of fiction ; on the conti-ary, I am of the opinion that some of the best books in the English language are to be found in this class ; I need only instance Goldsmith's Vicar of Wakefield and Defoe's Robinson Crusoe. There is a charm about these books which will always possess a fascinating influence over the minds of their readers. The secret of this charm exists solely in their keeping with our knowledge of right and wrong. Men of lively imagination, and possessing a full command over the language in which they write, may please with jDCculiar combinations of thought ; but it is a fact worthy of notice that only those who are true to nature are able to find an echo in the hearts of all men. It is thus that a " fellow-feeling makes the whole world akin." LETTER XIII. Lo7idon, September, 1855. My dear Thomas. — Like a man that has accomplislied a long and arduous journey, and who, while seated on a rising ground, feels a melancholy pleasure in sui^veying the dangers and difficulties through which he has passed, I cannot help, like Lot's wife, casting one long lingering look behind. The past is fraught with dear-bought les- sons of experience ; the present only exists in the mind, while the thought rushes through it with the speed of lightning. For aught I know, the future may be to me a dark passage of misery, without the buoyant energy of youth or manhood to spur me in the last battle of life. I think a cursory resicmi may enable you to seize hold of the salient points in my character, whereby you may take advantage of the lessons it is calculated to impress upon the mind of the thoughtful. During the first twelve years of my life, I was dragged through all the various scenes, and conditions consequent to the Nomadic existence of a vagrant. Although this unenviable state was surrounded •with innumerable hardships, and even occasional priva- tions, yet it was not without its sunny spots. The storms which passed with even the greatest violence over my head, only lasted for the time being, and after their fury was over, the calm of forgetfulness reigned supreme. The morning of life is the legitimate time for hunting the butterfly on the wing. It is then we pull the beautiful flowers in the very wantonness of thoughtless pleasure, and it is then we follow our untamed wills in the madness of delight. Many and many times, the dewy eve has found me wandering by the clear running brook, through some shady dell, or twisting the green rushes into conical hats in some quiet nook, in complete forgetfulness of all the world ; while the lash awaited me when night or hunger drove me to my temporary home. The time I spent under my father's roof was one of con- tinual sufl'ering. Physical hardships were nothing new to me, but I had never before been treated with the freezing coldness of neglect. Had I remained in Ireland, I think my natural energy of mind would have been crushed, and I might have remained a ragged outcast during life. My 198 THE AUTOElOGRAPHr conduct in leaving nnder tlie circumstances gave early proof of my tletermiuatiou of cliaracter. Settling down to the business of a country life was indicative of my desire to follow the pursuits of honest iiidustry. During the last two years I was with my mother, I had lai-ge sums of money continuously passing through my hands without abusing the trust reposed in me ; at such a time, and under such guidance, this w'as no bad proof of my honesty. During the next three years, I was like a feather on the ocean of life, dashed here and there by the conflicting cir- cumstances of my condition. Although I was an atom in the world of life, I was never without an individuality ; in all my miserable littleness, I possessed a mind far above my position ; and though I often wandered in the gloomy valley, bordering on despair, the lamp of hope never ceased to burn and light me on my way. My great struggle ui the battle of life was to find my proper position in society. You have seen how I suffered, and braved every difficulty in the attainment of my level. I think I am fairly entitled to credit for one act of wise determination, and that was in serving my apprenticeship to a trade. I look upon this as the grand turning point in my existence ; to me it was the half-way hou^e between the desert of my youth, and the sunny lands of my manhood, I have reason to reflect with pleasure upon my conduct as a journeyman ; I entirely escaped the leading vice of the profession at the time, which was intemperance. And although I was a young man, when compared to many of my co-mates, who were intelligent, and well conducted, my judgment was uniformly looked up to in almost every case of emergency. My political career was one of pride, folly and stupidity. As a commercial man, I wanted ballast ; and my credulity too frequently made me forget my own intei'est in consideration for the feelings of others. As a publican, I was above the business, and as a neces- sary consequence it got above me ! The next three years of my life, after leaving Glasgow, may be found in the chapter of accidents. When I went to my trade I had all the wild associations of my vagrant existence cling- ing to my memory ; and when I left Glasgow, a ruined man, the flesh-pots of Egypt held their fascinating sway over my feelings, like dreams of past enjoyments. In my moments of sadness, I have had the folly to think that my fall was unmerited ; but a little sound reflection would OF A BEGGAR-BOT, 199 banish the thought, and again and again I have resolved to improve the "future by the dear-bought experience of the past. During my wedded life I have had sixteen bii'ths, and twelve deaths to provide for. In the course of events these were things of absorbing interest for the time being, and thej' have all been surrounded with many feelings of much joy and no little sorrow. I have always been blessed with the enjoyment of domestic love and sincerity ; my family and fireside have therefore ever been my first and last con- sideration. The soothing pleasures and quiet enjoyments of home have always exercised a pleasing influence over my mind, and when the toils, trials, and vexations of the world have pressed upon me with tlieir cankering cares and corroding anxieties, the approving smile of my hoping and confiding wife would chase the melancholy gloom from my heart. Tiie innocent pi'attle and joyous gambols of my children have always been a source of real pleasure to me ; and now I frequently delight to unbend myself, and occasionally become a part of themselves. In my sad moments, i have sometimes felt my ire kindling at their boisterous mirth, but I have checked tlie rising spleen, when I reflected that youth is the season when their little laugh- ing batteries should be charged with the electricity of pure hilarity. The wise man hath said, that " there is a time for all things ;" and it is surely soon enough to encounter the cares of the world when reason has been assisted to her throne by the experience of years ! You have now before you an honest history of my life up to the present time. 1 am aware you will find much to blame, l>ut in this respect your censure will not be more severe than my own. You will also find some little to commend ; and, on the whole, you will not fail to find much useful matter for reflection. I think yo;i will agree with me, that I have passed through many severe and danger- ous trials, and on some occasions sull'ered no small nard- ships. The battle of my life is well calculated to prove to yomig men what energy and determination of character are able to accomplish when rightly directed. It is true that I had frequent opportunities of doing more, and turn- ing my position to a more fortunate account ; but in look- ing at the other side of the picture, if I had gone with the strong tide of my circumstances in early life, T should have remained a vagrant still, if not something worse I 200 THE AUTOBIOftRAPHT OF A BEGGAR-BO T. Many of my historical notices will be new to you ; and T have necessarily had to speak much about the manners and habits of those who immediately preceded you in the journey of life. In my little time I have witnessed many strange reverses in the fortunes of others. Upon more occasions than one, I have been enabled to assist in supplj'ing the necessities of those who were once in such a position that I would have been glad of the crumbs that fell from their tables. On the otlier hand, I have seen scores of men run up the scale of society, some by sheer plodding, some by the force of their genius, .-ind otliers by less honourable methods. Between forty and fifty years ago, I was a bare-footed and ragged urchin, unworthy of notice, unless I was in some- body's way ; likt; others in the same condition, I was some times relieved through a feeling of kindness, and at others to save further im])ortunity ! ! Like St. Paul, I may there- fore be said to have been all things to all men. The ground that I walked over as a beggar, I have also traversed in the character of a gentleman, and upon more occasions than one, at the houses where I once sought alms, I have been saluted with the respect due to rank far above my own. For the last two years, I have held a situation of considerable responsibility, during that time I have come in contact with many of the first-class commercial men in the United Kingdom. And what is of no small import- ance to myself, I have the entire confidence of my employer. My home is the abode of happiness, and my own, and the lives of my family gently glide down tlie stream of existence in peace and contentment. Wliether the remain- der of my journey be rough or smooth, providence alone can decide ; and in the language of Jacob on leaving the home of his fatlier, I would say, — "If God shall be with me, and shall keep me in the way by wliicli I shall walk, and shall give me bread to eat and raiment to put on, and I shall return prosperously to my father's house, the Lord shall be my God." ■ Vj ^ < Printed for W. TWEEDIE, 337, Strand, by R. Baebett, Mark Lane. .v-in^ANr,Firrv "^aUJIIVJJO'^ j.OFfAIIFnP^/ I UNIYERSITY OF CAJLITORNIA LIBRARY Los Angeles ^ ^ This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. % ( M OCT 17 1994 315 \r: ?n SI ifT ^ e\ 5MEl)NIVER% ir.uirt! r •^TilJONYSOl^ -^/^iJJAINftJWV ■^ =: •) — ^lllBRARYQ<- UC SOUTHFRf'J REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY AOfCAllF0% ^&A}ivaaii-i^ ^