recollection, much such English as this. My mother, I believe, never went to any but a dancing-school, and her state was the more gracious. But her half

sister, Miss Tyler, was placed at one in the neighbourhood under a Mrs., whom I mention because her history is characteristic of those times. Her husband carried on the agreeable business of a butcher in Bristol, while she managed a school for young ladies about a mile out of the town. His business would not necessarily have disqualified her for this occupation (though it would be no recommendation), Kirke White's mother, a truly admirable woman, being in this respect just under like circumstances. But Mrs. might, with more propriety, have been a blacksmith's wife; as, in that case, Vulcan might have served for a type of her husband in his fate, but not in the complacency with which he submitted to it, horns sitting as easily on his head as upon the beasts which he slaughtered. She was a handsome woman, and her children were, like the Harleian Miscellany, by different authors. This was notorious; yet her school flourished notwithstanding, and she retired from it at last with a competent fortune, and was visited as long as she lived by her former pupils. This may serve to show a great improvement in the morals of middle life.

Two things concerning my mother's childhood and youth may be worthy of mention. One is, that she had for a fellow-scholar at the dancing-school Mary Darby (I think her name was), then in her beauty and innocence, soon afterwards notorious as the Prince of Wales's Perdita, and to be remembered

hereafter, though a poor poetess, as having, perhaps, a finer feeling of metre, and more command of it, than any of her contemporaries. The other is, that my mother, who had a good ear for music, was taught by her father to whistle; and he succeeded in making her such a proficient in this unusual accomplishment, that it was his delight to place her upon his knee, and make her entertain his visitors with a display. This art she never lost, and she could whistle a songtune as sweetly as a skilful player could have performed it upon the flute.

My grandmother continued to live in the house at Bedminster, which her husband had built, and which after his death had been purchased by Edward Tyler. It was about half an hour's walk, ev¿ávæ åvdpì, from Bristol; and my father, having been introduced there, became in process of time a regular Sabbath guest. How long he had been acquainted with the family before he thought of connecting himself with it, I do not know; but in the year 1772, being the 27th of his own age, and the 20th of my mother's, they were married at Bedminster church. He had previously left Britton's service, and opened a shop for himself in the same business and in the same street, three doors above. Cannon Southey had left him 100%. ; my mother had a legacy of 50l. from her uncle Bradford; my father formed a partnership with his younger brother Thomas, who had such another bequest as his from the same quarter; perhaps also he might have saved something during his years of service, and the business may have begun with a capital of 5007; I should think not more. Shop

signs were general in those days; but the custom of suspending them over the street, as is still done at inns in the country, was falling into disuse. My father, true to his boyish feelings, and his passion for field sports (which continued unabated, notwithstanding the uncongenial way of life in which his lot had fallen), took a hare for his device. It was painted on a pane in the window on each side of the door, and was engraved on his shopbills. This became interesting when he told me of his shedding tears at the sight of the hare in the porter's hand in London; and I often think of having one cut upon a seal, in remembrance of him and of the old shop. Bryan the Prophet told me, in the days of Richard Brothers, that I was of the tribe of Judah, a sort of nobility which those prophets had the privilege of discovering without any assistance from the Herald's office. Had he derived me from Esau instead of Jacob, my father's instincts might have induced me to lend a less incredulous ear.

The first child of this marriage was born August 1. 1773, and christened John Cannon. He lived only to be nine or ten months old. He was singularly beautiful; so much so, that, when I made my appearance on the 12th of August, 1774*, I was sadly dis

*My birth-day was Friday the 12th of August, 1774,-the time of my birth half-past eight in the morning, according to the family Bible. According to my astrological friend Gilbert, it was a few minutes before the half hour, in consequence of which I am to have a pain in my bowels when I am about thirty, and Jupiter is my deadly antagonist; but I may thank the stars for "a gloomy capability of walking through desolation."-Letter to Grosvenor C. Bedford, Esq., Sept. 30.

1797.

paraged by comparison with him. My mother asking if it was a boy, was answered by her nurse in a tone as little favourable to me as the opinion was flattering. "Ay, a great ugly boy!" and she added, when she told me this, "God forgive me!-when I saw what a great red creature it was, covered with rolls of fat, I thought I should never be able to love him."

LETTER V.

FIRST GOING TO SCHOOL.-BIRTH OF BROTHERS AND SISTERS.MISS TYLER.

March 20th, 1821.

THE popular saint of the democratic cantons in Switzerland, St. Nicolas de Huë (to whom I paid my respects in his own church at Saxeln), remembered his own birth, knew his mother and the midwife as soon as he was born, and never forgot the way by which he was taken to be christened, nor the faces of the persons who were present at that ceremony. But he was an extraordinary child, who, though he neither danced nor sung nor preached before he was born (all which certain other saints are said to have done), had revelations in that state, and saw the light of Heaven before he came into the light of day. It has pleased the metaphysico-critico-politico-patrioticophoolo-philosopher Jeremy Bentham to designate me, in one of his opaque works, by the appellation of St. Southey, for which I humbly thank his Jeremy

Benthamship, and have in part requited him. It would be very convenient if I had the same claim to this honour, on the score of miraculous memory, as the aforesaid Nicolas-but the twilight of my recollections does not begin till the third year of my age.*

However, though I did not, like him, know the midwife at the time when she had most to do with me, I knew her afterwards, for she brought all my brothers and sisters into the world. She was the wife of a superannuated Baptist preacher, who, as was formerly common for Baptist preachers to do, kept a shop, dealing in medicines and quackery among other things. Preachers of this grade have now nearly, or entirely disappeared; and even the Methodists will not allow their ministers to engage in any kind of trade. I mention this family, therefore, as belonging to a class which is now extinct. They were stiff Oliverians in their politics. The husband was always at his studies, which probably lay in old puritanical divinity; he was chiefly supported by his wife's professional labours, and I well remember hearing him spoken of as a miserable morose tyrant. The only son of this poor woman lost his life by a singularly dismal accident, when he was grown up and doing well in

My feelings were very acute; they used to amuse themselves by making me cry at sad songs and dismal stories. I remember "Death and the Lady," "Billy Pringle's Pig," "The children sliding on the ice all on a summer's day," and Witherington fighting on his stumps at Chevy Chase. This was at two years old, when my recollection begins, — prior identity, I have none;-they tell me I used to beg them not to proceed. I know not whether our feelings are blunted or rendered more acute by action; in either case these pranks are wrong with children. I cannot now hear a melancholy tale in silence, but I have learnt to whistle. - Letter to G. C. Bedford, Esq., Sept. 30. 1796.