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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 more so wise, and that its relinquishment is the to you: and if a firm decision of characmost prudent step they can take. Perhaps the perusal of some book nation to avoid every snare which may ter, an unbending and inflexible determihas 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 anew, 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. alas! how soon is all the ardour of ex- to dread the first approaches to it? Has But, vice, which you have often heard, led you 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 atarts back with amazement; another kind and solicitous affection of your pastrikes a deeper blow by the half-hid rental advisers has so often and so anxsmile and the ironical wish for success; iously set before you, induced you to rewhilst 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 attention of an imhe is willing to find that other effect mortal and accountable being, and to the what he cannot attempt, enters 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 acquaintance, afford them an easy tri- a barrier against error; and, whilst 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, which he has long been anxiously antici- ers, any, who by the advice of their Or should there be, amongst our readpating; 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 his conduct which pa- fession which is to afford employment for ternal authority, exercised under the their future lives, and in which 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 that 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 arriving— and attractive trusting, that tho' there 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 life seem better licitations which are but the avenues to calculated than yours to confer satisfacthe wider paths of profligacy: to him tion, be careful to guard against the inwould we earnestly say---beware. If dulgence of such sentiments: remember,

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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 us 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 former will hourly insinuate some motives, who at break of morn leaves his cottage which, if attended to, would lead to rein the valley, and climbs the hbour- suits direct contrary to the latter. Those ing mountain to enjoy the beauties of on a generalew of objects are captithe rising sun, enraptured with the vated by their gistering 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 brightest beams on the spot which he as to assume an inviting appearance, the had trodden in the morning, now that resolutions which cool deliberation had very hill which overhangs his home is formed will be soon confounded; and, the loveliest, fairest object in all the when too late, he 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, before the lasting and permanent happiness that he might, by pursuing a different line of conduct, have possessed.

view."

The most effectual means of obtaining that strength of mind which we often admire in others, and wish that we possessed ourselves, is, absolutely to resist

June 1817.

THE LIFE OF WILLIAM HUTTON, F.A.S.S.*

ALFRED

INCLUDING A PARTICULAR ACCOUNT OF THE RIOTS AT BIRMINGHAM. WRITTEN BY HIMSELF; AND PUBLISHED BY HIS DAUGHTER.

From the Monthly Magazine.

first and last year of her father's life, has kept up its interest, and rendered the whole one of the most instructive pieces of Biography, for the use of the lower and middle classes, which exists in our language. The Narrative of the Riots in Birmingham, of which Mr. Hutton was one of the victims, is a document for History; and, from this part, as being likely to be more acceptable to general readers, and as more capable of being detached from the general narrative, we have made copious extracts.]

[This amusing volume exhibits the triumph of industry and virtue, and the happy results of a well-spent life. Its simplicity, artlessness, and humility, may perhaps offend the pedant, or man of fashion; but, for our parts, we have accompanied our old friend in this narrative of his peaceful Journey of Life, with beartfelt pleasure; and our deliberate feeling is a fervent wish that our latter days may be like his, and that, when our race against time is ended, we may possess equal claims to the respect of posterity. In many respects this work bears a strong analogy to the recent life of Thomas Holcroft, as far as both were written by the originals; but Mr. Hutton was a less artificial character than Mr. Holcroft, and his story therefore pleases us better. Miss Hutton, who has written the ninety- It was so with me. Five days had pas

See Ath. Vol. I. p. 750.

TH

THE HISTORY OF A WEEK.

HE week of the races is an idle one among Stockingers at Nottingham.

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sed, and I had done little more than the work of four.

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face those whom I had often laughed at, and whipped with the rod of satire?

The next day, July 12, 1741, I went to Meeting in the morning as usual. My uncle seemed sorry for what had passed, and inclined to make matters up. At noon he sent me for some fruit, and asked me to partake. I thanked him with a sullen No. My wounds were too deep to be healed with cherries.

My uncle, who always judged from the present moment, supposed I should never return to industry. He was angry at my neglect, and observed, on Saturday morning, that, if I did not perform my task that day, he would thrash me at night. Idleness, which had hovered over me five days, did not choose to 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 pau 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!" I I had rather she had broken my 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 I ever 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 my 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.

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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 windows were open, the evening calm, the sky serene, and every thing mild but my uncle and me. The sound of the roar and the stick penetrated the air to a great distance.

and that, if I told Roper my design, he would insist upon going with me, which would double that loss. I could not bear the thought therefore resolved to go alone, for which Roper afterwards 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 Hut- 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 beaufet, I adequate, I leave to the reader to deter- found ten shillings, I took two, and left mine. He afterwards told my father eight. that he should not have quarreled with me, but for that word. But let me ask, what word could I have substituted in its room, unless I had meant to equivocate?

After packing up my small stock of moveables, I was at a loss how to get out of the house. There was but one door, which was locked, and my uncle had the key. I contrived, therefore, to get my chattels upon a wall eight feet high, in a small back yard; climb up myself, drop them on the other side, and jump down after them.

I was drawing towards eighteen, held some rank among my acquaintance, made a small figure in dress, and was taken notice of by the fair sex: therefore, though I was greatly hurt in body, I was While this was transacting, an acmuch more hurt 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.

I carried neither a light heart, nor a Might load; nay, there was nothing fight about me but the sun in the heavens, and the money in my pocket. I considered myself an out-cast, an exuberance in the 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; but, treating from my society. alas! I had a bed to seek. About a stone's cast from the place stood another barn, which, perhaps, might furnish me with a lodging. I thought it needless to take the bags while I examined the place, as my stay would be very short.

The second barn yielding no relief, I returned in about ten minutes. 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, but 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 after a day's fatigue, with the sky over lamenting about the fields and roads, my head, and the bags by my side. I employed some 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

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all I met. I found pity, or seeming pity, from all, but redress from none. I saw my hearers dwindle with the twilight: and, by eleven o'clock, found myself in the open street, left to tell my mournful tale to the silent night.

It is not easy to place a human being in a more distressed situation. My finances were nothing; a stranger to the world, and the world to me; no employ, nor likely to procure any; no food to eat, or place to rest: all the little property I had upon earth taken from me nay, even hope, that last and constant friend of the unfortunate, forsook me. I was in a more wretched condition than he who has nothing to lose. An eye may roll over these lines when the hand that writes them shall be still. May that eye move without a tear! I sought repose in the street, upon a butcher's block.

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and Coventry, a little to the left, would bring me into the stocking country.

Addison says, "There is not a Woman in England; that every one of the British fair has a right to the appellation of Lady." I wondered, in my way from Walsall to Birmingham, to see so many blacksmiths' shops; in many of them one, and sometimes two Ladies at work; all with smutty faces, thundering at the anvil. Struck with the novelty, I asked if the ladies in this country shod horses? but was answered, “They are nailers."

Upon Handworth heath, I had a view of Birmingham. St.Philip's Church appeared first, uncrowded with houses, (for there were none to the north, New Hall excepted,) untarnished with smoke, and illuminated with a western sun. It appeared in all the pride of modern architecture. I was charmed with its beauty, and thought it then, as I do now, the credit of the place.

July 14, I inquired, early in the morning, 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 his advice in practice, and and thirty-nine years after should write found myself in the company of a man its history! and his servant with a waggon-load of carrots; and, also, of an old fellow and his grandson with a horse-load of cherries. We continued together to the end of the journey; but I cannot say that either pity or success was of our party. As my feet were not used to travel, they became extremely blistered; I, therefore, rubbed them with a little beef fat, begged of a Walsall butcher, and found instant relief.

I was surprized at the place, but more at the people, They possessed a vivacity I had never beheld. I had been among dreamers, but now I saw men awake. Their very step along the street shewed alacrity. Every man seemed to know what he was about. The town was large, and full of inhabitants, and these inhabitants full of industry. The faces of other men seemed tinctured with an idle gloom; but here, with a pleasing alertness. Their appearance was strongly marked with the modes of civil life.

How far commerce influences the hab

Upon application to a man who sold stockings in the market, I could learn that there were no frames in Walsall, but many 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 Eng. M13. Vol. I only animal out of use.