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Decision of Character.
creation against them, and they shelter that hesitating distrustfulness and cowardthemselves behind the flattering reflection, ice in action which we have been descrithat their first determination was un- bing is anywhere dangerous, it is nore so wise, and that its relinquishment is the to you : and if a firm decision of characmost prudent step they can take. ter, an uobending and inflexible determi.
Perhaps the perusal of some book nation to avoid every snare which may has awakened their slumbering ener- tempt any one from his purpose, be at gies; perhaps they resolve to arouse any time, and under any circumstances, themselves aoew, and to issue forth like needful, it is especially so to you. Have a giant refreshed with new wine; every the instructions which you have received thing that before opposed is diminished in your earlier years made a deep, and, into a dwarfish insignificance; a serene as you hope, a lasting impression upon sky elevates their hopes, and a propitious your mind ? Has that description of breeze animates their courage. But, vice, which you have often heard, led you alas ! how soon is all the ardour of ex- to dread the first approaches to it? Has pectation cooled! One friend, or pre- that picture of virtue and that view of the tended friend, on hearing their design, happy results of a religious life, which the starts back with amazement; another kind and solicitous affection of your pastrikes a deeper blow by the half-hid rental advisers has so often and go anxsmile and the ironical wish for success ; iously set before you, induced you to re. wbilst a third, as little able to accomplish solve to look to Piety as that which alone that from which he dissuades another as is worthy the chief acti-ntion of an imhe is willing to find that other effect mortal and accountable being, and to the what he cannot attempt, edters into a Bible as your only sure directory, and long detail of dismal consequences calcu- your only faithful guide ? Encourage lated to alarm their fears and shake their these sentiments ; revert to your earlier resolution. Now how altered are our years, and remember the instructions of daring champions! who, rather than your youth : be cautious how you suffer undergo the probable chance of fulfilling, yourself to relinquish one single point in by their failure, the predictions of their your opinions that may possibly serve as acquaiotance, afford them an easy tri- a barrier against error; and, wbilst presumph, by surrendering the palm of vic- sing forward to the goal, disregard the tory before the contest had commenced. fatigue of the race, nor stop to gather
If there should be amongst our the golden apples of temptation which readers any young man who has just Pleasure will scatter in your way. arrived at that interesting period of life, Or should there be, amongst our readwbich be has long been anxiously antici- ers, any, who by the advice of their pating; who has escaped from the friends, or from their own uncontrolled restraints of a school, or from that salu- choice, have adopted that particular protary check upon bis conduct which pa- session which is io afford employment for ternal authority, exercised under the their future lives, and in wbich they are domestic roof, had imposed; who is anxious and emulous to excel, and who, eagerly starting in his career, and won- feeling satisfied with the situation in which dering that thui world which has been they are placed, are resolving that study pointed out to him as being filled with and assiduity, application and perseversnares, and flattering with promises ance, shall lead them to that eminence which it would never fulfil, is so pleasing to which they are desirous of arrivingand attractive : trusting, that tho' tbere you ought especially to avoid and guard might be particular dangers in particular against that mental imbecility and waversituations, yet with his sentiments of mo- ing indecision which we have been desrality, with his watchfulness against ev- cribing. If at any time you should be ery temptation, and with his contempt of tempted to envy others around you who what others may say or think, that he appear to be happier than yourselves and shall never even be exposed to those so- whose occupations in lile seem better licitations which are but the avenues to calculated tban yours to confer satisfacthe wider paths of profligacy: to bim tion, be careful to guard against the inwould we earnestly say---beware. If dulgence of such sentiments : remember,
Life of William Hutton.
that there was a time when the pursuit in the flattering temptation of immediate which you are engaged appeared to you satisfaction and enjoyment, and never to as the best that you could adopt : and suffer the prospect of present ease or what has occurred since to render it dif- pleasure to prevent is from undergoing ferent! And should you be prevailed up- that fatigue which is to lead us to future on to forsake it for that which is the ob. profit and more distant advantage. That ject of your envy, would you not, by in- should never be given to the passions dulging the love of change, be only ren- and affections, which the reason and dering yourself still more open to discon- judgment alone have a right to : the tent than you are at present? The man for mer will hourlyinsinuate some motives, who at break of morn leaves his cottage which, if attended to, would lead to rein the valley, and climbs the rabbour- suits direct, contrary to the latter. Those ing mountain to enjoy the beauties of on a general aw of objects are captithe rising sun, enraptured with the vated by their gineering -xterior, whilst surrounding scenery, may, perhaps, cast these on a particular inspection look his eye upon the distant blue horizon, into their intrinsic worth. The dictates and think, Ah! were I but on yonder of the one are the effects of mere impulse, hill what new pleasures might I expe. the inducements of the other are the rience, what fairer scenes might I behold deliberate decisions which are the result --he leaves his station : to gain his ob- of unbiassed investigation. And that ject, he submits to a temporary relin- man who allows himself to be led away quishment of the satisfaction he was ex- by his passions and affections will find, periencing, and, after enduring the fatigue that when the objects which attract his and labour of the day, at the approach attention are viewed through their meof evening he gains the wished-for sum- dium, that whenever they are placed in mit: but now the setting sun is casting such favourable lights and new positions its brigbtest beams on the spot which he as to assume an inviting #ppearance, the had trodden in the morning, now that resolutions which cool deliberation had very hill which overhangs his home is formed will be soon consounded ; and, the loveliest, fairest object in all the when too late, be will rue the indecision landscape; and he finds too late, that of character which led him to prefer the “ 'Twas distance lent enchantment to the short and fleeting enjoyment of the hour, view."
before the lasting and permanent bappiThe most effectual means of obtain- ness that he might, by pursuing a differing that strength of mind which we often ent line of conduct, have possessed. admire in others, and wish that we pos
ALFRED. sessed ourselves, is, absolutely to resist
THE LIFE OF WILLIAM HUTTON, F.A.S.S. INCLUDING A PARTICULAR ACCOUNT OF TRE RIOTS AT BIRMINGHAM. WRITTEN BY HIMSELF
AND PUBLISHED BY HIS DAUGHTER.
From the Monthly Magazine. [This amusing volume exhibits the triumph first and last year of her father's life, has
of industry and virtue, and the happy re kept up its interest, and rendered the whole salts of a well-spent life. Its simplicity, one of the most instructive pieces of Biograartlessness, and humility, may perhaps of phy, for the use of the lower and middle fend the pedant, or man of fashion but, classes, which exists in our language. The for our parts, we have accompanied our old Narrative of the Riots in Birmingham, of friend in this narrative of his peaceful Jour which Mr. Hutton was one of the victims, ney of Life, with beartfelt pleasure ; and is a document for History; and, from this our deliberate feeling is a fervent wish that part, as being likely to be more acceptable our latter days may be like his, and that, to general readers, and as more capable of when our race against time is ended, we being detached from the general narrative, may possess equal claims to the respect of we have made copious extracts.] posterity. In many respects this work bears a strong analogy to the recent life of Thomas Holcroft, as far as both were writ
THE HISTORY OF A WEEK. ten by the originals ; but Mr. Hutton was THE week of the races is an idle one a less artificial character than Mr. Holcroft, and his story therefore pleases us better.
among Stockingers at Nottingham. Miss Hatton, who has written the ninety: It was so with me. Five days had pasa
• See Ath. Vol. I. p. 750.
Life of the venerable William Hutton.
sed, and I had done little more than the face those whom I had often laughed at, work of four.
and whipped with the rod of satire ? My uncle, who always judged from The next day, July 12, 1741, I went the present moment, supposed I should to Meeting in the morning as usual. never return to industry. He was an- My uncle seemed sorry for what had gry at my neglect, and observed, on Sat- passed, and inclined to make matters up. urday morning, that, if I did not perform At noon he sent me for some fruit, and my task that day, he would thrash me at asked me to partake. I thanked him night. Illeness, which had hovered with a sullen No. My wounds were too over me five days, did not choose to deep to be healed with cherries. leave me the sixth. Night came. I Standing by the palisades of the house, wanted one hour's work. I hoped my in a gloomy posture, a female acquaintformer conduct would atone for the pre- ance pawnu by, and turning, with a poinsent. But he had passe nis word, and ted sneer, said, “ You were licked' last a man does not wish to oreak it. “ You night.” The remark stung me to the quick. have not done the task I ordered !" II had rather she had broken
head. was silent.
“ Was it in your power to My fellow-apprentice, Roper, was have done it ?" Still silent. He repeated bigger and older than I, though he came again, “ Could you have done it ?” As two years after me. This opake body lever detested lying, I could not think of ill-nature centered between my uncle of covering myself, even from a rising and myself, and eclipsed that affection storm, by so mean a subterfuge ; for we which gave pleasure to both. He staid both knew I had done near twice as with us three years. The two years of much. I therefore answered in a low iny servitude, before he came, were spent meek voice, “ I could.” This fatal word, in great friendship with my uncle ; and innocent in itself, and founded upon after he left, the same friendship returntruth, proved my destruction. “ Then,” ed, and continued for life. says he, “ I'll make you.” He immedi This lad had often solicited me to run ately brought a birch-broom handle, of away with him ; but I considered that white hazel, and holding it by the small my leaving my uncle would be a loss to end, repeated his blows till I thought he him, for which I should be very sorry; would have broken me to pieces. The and that, if I told Roper my design, he windows were open, the evening calm, would insist upon going with me, which the sky serene, and every thing mild but would double that loss. I could not my uncle and me. The sound of the bear the thought : therefore resolved to roar and the stick penetrated the air to go alone, for which Roper afterwards a great distance,
blamed me. The neighbourhood turned out to in I put on my hat as if going to meeting, quire the cause ; when, after some inves- but privately slipped up stairs till the tigation, it was said to be,“ Only Huto family were gone. The whole house ton thrashing one of his lads." Wheth- was now open to my inspection. Upon er the crime and the punishment were examining a glass in the beauset, I adequate, I leave to the reader to deter- found ten shillings, I took two, and left mine. He afterwards told iny father eight. that he should not have quarreled with After packing up my small stock of me, but for that word. But let me ask, moveables, I was at a loss how to get what word could I have substituted in out of the house. There was hut one its room, unless I had meant to equivo- door, which was locked, and my uncle cate ?
had the key. I contrived, therefore, to I was drawing towards eighteen, held get my chattels upon a wall eight feet some rank among my acquaintance, made high, in a small back yard ; climb up a small figure in dress, and was taken myself, drop them on the other side, and notice of by the fair sex: therefore, jump down after thein. though I was greatly hurt in body, I was While this was transacting, an acmuch more burt in mind. Pride takes quaintance passed by. I imparted my a very early root in the heart, and never design to him, because it was impossible leaves us but with life. How should I to hide it, and enjoined him secresy.
(898 He seemed to rejoice at my scheme, or asleep, the jingling of the chains at the rather at my fall; for, if I commit ao borses' feet, and a mind agitated, were error and he does not, he is the best of ill calculated for rest. the two.
I rose at four, July 13, starved, sore, Figure to yourself a lad of seventeen, and stiff ; deposited my bags under the not elegantly dressed, nearly five feet fourth tree, covering them with leaves, high, rather Duteh built, with a long while I waited upon Warburgh's bridge Darrow bag of brown leather, that would for my brother Samuel, who I knew hold about a bushel, in which was neat- would go to the silk-mills before five. ly packed up a new suit of clothes ; also, I told him that I had differed with my a white linen bag, which would hold uncle, had left him, and intended to go about half as much, containing a sixpen- to Ireland ; that he must remember me ny loaf of coarse blencorn bread, a bit of to iny father, whom I should probably butter, wrapped in the leaves of an old see no more. I had all the discourse to copy-book ; a new bible, value three myself, for my brother did not utter one shillings; one sbirt; a pair of stockings; word. a sundial; my best wig, carefully folded I arrived at Burton the same morning, and laid at top, that, hy lying in the having travelled twenty-eight miles, and hollow of the bag, it might not be crush- spent nothing. I was an economist from nd. The ends of the two bags being my cradle, and the character never fortied together, I sluog thein over my left sook me. To this I in some measure shoulder, rather in the style of a cock- owe my present situation. fighter. My best hat, not being proper I ever had an inclination to examine ly calculated for a bag, I hung to the fresh places. Leaving my bags at a button of my coat. I had only two public-house, I took a view of the town, shillings in my pocket; a spacious world and, breaking into my first shilling, I before me, and no plan of operations. spent one penny as a recompence for the
I cast back many a melancholy look, care of thein. while every step set me at a greater dis Arriving the same evening within the tance ; and took, what I thought, an precincts of Lichfield, I approached a everlasting farewell of Nottingham. barn, where I intended to lodge ; but,
i carried neither a light beart, nor a finding the door shut, I opened my pargut load ; nay, there was nothing light cels in the fields, dressed, hid my bags about me but the sun in the heavens,and near a hedge, and took a view of the city the money in my pocket. I considered for about two hours, though very soremyself an out-cast, an exuberance in the footed. creation, a being now fitted to no pur Returning to the spot about nine, I pose. At ten, I arrived at Derby. The undressed, bagged up my things in deinhabitants were gone to bed, as if re- cent order, and prepared for rest; bute treating from my society.
alas! I had a bed to seek. About a I took a view of my father's house, stone's cast from the place stood anothet where I supposed all were at rest ; but, barn, which, perhaps, inight furnish me before I was aware, I perceived the door with a lodging. I thought it needless to open, and heard his foot not three yards take the bags while I examined the from me. I retreated with precipitation. place, as my stay would be very short. How ill calculated are we to judge of The second barn yielding no relief, I events! I was rupning from the last hand returned in about ten minutes. But that could have saved me!
what was my surprise when I perceived Adjoining the town is a field called the bags were gone! Terror seized me. Abbey-barns, the scene of my childish I roared after the rascal, bot might as amusements. Here I took up iny abode well have been silent, for thieves seldom upon the cold grass, in a damp place, come at a call. Running, raving, and alter a day's fatigue, with the sky over lamenting about the fields and roads, my head, and the bags by ny side. I einployed sone time. I was too much need not say I was a boy, this rash ac- immersed in distress to find relief in tion proves it. The place was full of tears. They refused to flow. I decattle. The full breath of the cows half scribed the bags, and told the affair to
Life of the venerable William Hutton.
all I met. I found pity, or seeming pity, and Coventry, a little to the left, would
“There is not a Woman and, by eleven o'clock, found myself in in England; that every one of the British the open street, left to tell my mournful fair has a right to the appellation of tale to the silent night.
Lady." I wondered, in my way from It is not easy to place a human being Walsall to Birmingham, to see so many in a more distressed situation. My blacksmiths shops ; in many of them finances were nothing; a stranger to the one, and sometimes two Ladies at work; world, and the world to me; no employ, all with smutty faces, thundering at the nor likely to procure any; no food to anvil. Struck with the novelty, asked eat, or place to rest : all the little pro- if the ladies in this country shod horses ? perty I had upon earth taken froin me : but was answered, “ They are pailers.” nay, even hope, that last and constant Upon Handworth heath, I had a view friend of the unfortunate, forsook me. of Birmingham. St.Philip's Church apI was in a more wretched condition than peared first, uncrowded with houses, (for he who has nothing to lose. An eye there were none to the north, New Hall may roll over these lines when the hand excepted,) untarnished with smoke, and that writes them shall be still. May illuminated with a western sun. It apthat eye move without a tear! I sought peared in all the pride of modern archirepose in the street, upon a butcher's tecture. I was charmed with its beauty, block.
and thought it then, as I do now, the July 14, I inquired, early in the morn- credit of the place. ing, after my property, but to as little I had never seen more than five towns; purpose as the night before. Among Nottingham, Derby; Burton, Lichfield, others, I accosted a gentleman in a and Walsall. The last three I had not wrought night-cap, plaid gown, and mo- known more than two days. The outrocco slippers. I told him my distress, skirts of these, and, I supposed, of others, and begged he would point out some were composed of wretched dwellings, mode of employ, that might enable me visibly stamped with dirt and poverty. to exist. He was touched with compas. But the buildings in the exterior of Birsion. I found it was easy to penetrate mingham rose in a style of elegance. his heart, but not his pocket.' “ It is Thatch, so plentiful in other places, was market-day at Walsall,” said he, “ yon- not to be met with in this.
It did not der people are going there ; your attend- occur to my thoughts, that nine years ance upon them may be successful.” I after I should become a resident here, instantly put bis advice in practice, and and thirty-nine years after should write found myself in the company of a man its history! and bis servant with a waggon-load of I was surprized at the place, but more carrots ; and, also, of an old mellow and at the people, They possessed a vivahis grandson with a horse-load of cher- city I had never beheld. I had been ries. We continued together to the end among dreamers, but now I saw men of the journey ; but I cannot say that awake. Their very step along the street either pity or success was of our party. shewed alacrity. Every man seemed to As my feet were not used to travel, know what he was about.
The town they became extremely blistered ; I, was large, and full of inhabitants, and therefore, rubbed them with a little beef these inhabitants full of industry. The fat, begged of a Walsall butcher, and faces of other men seemed tinctured with found instant relief.
an idle gloom ; but here, with a pleasing Upon application to a man who sold alertness. Their appearance was strongstockings in the market, I could learn ly marked with the inodes of civil life. that there were no frames in Waleall, but How far commerce iniluences the habmany in Birmingham; that he would rec- its of men is worthy the pen of the phiommend me to an acquaintance; and, if I losopher. The weather was extremely should not succeed, there was Worcester, fine, which gave a lustre to the whole; a little to the right, had some frames; the people seemed happy; and I the En . Vob. I
Daly animal out of use.