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portraits itnb P^cmoirs of Ormincnt Jlutifacs anir €cm\hu Cljaructcrs of tijt Countg of Pcrbn, 





* Books, dreams arc both a world ; and books, wc know. 
Are a substantial world, both pure and good ; 
Round which, with tendrils strong as flesh and blood, 
Our pastime and our happiness may grow." — Wohdswokth. 

*' To ray unfolding lend a gracious car." — Shakesi-eake. 


Derdv: Messrs. Bemrose & Sons, Messrs. Clulow & Son, Mr. R. Keene, Messrs. W. & W. Pike, Mr. I' 1'i;ai., 
Messrs. Wilki.ns & lii.Lis, Mr. Rowdottom, Mr. L. Brookes, and tub Author, Mr. J. B. Rouinson, Uerwent Sireet. 





Success in Life. — If Biography teaches anything, it teaches this : that there 
has been a golden moment in the lives of most men, which genius has been 
enabled to seize and to employ ; that there is a tide in the affairs of men, 
which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune. The sculptor Thor\»'aldsen 
has packed up his few belongings, and is about to leave Rome for Denmark. 
His life looks blank enough to him. His profession seems to be a great 
mistake. Nobody will buy his statues, or encourage the genius which he 
had fondly hoped was in him. But that very day an Englishman chanced 
to enter his studio, had the ability to recognize his talent, and the money 
to purchase his great statue, the Jason. The time and the man had come, 
and Thorwaldsen's fortune was made. And that golden opportunity will 
come to you, also, my young friend ; only take care that you are ready for 
it, when it does come. The stone that is fit for the wall does not lie long 
in the ditch. — Macmilian. 



"» o^KtfAKA 

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List of Subscribers . . . . 


God ley, Samuel - - - . 

- 75 

Preface - - . . . 


Hallam, John 


Harrison, Samuel 

- 54 

Ancient Documents - . . . 


Antique Silver Ornament from Dale Abbey 


High Peak Hospitality 


Ashborne, Prisoners of War at - 


Incised Cross Slab from Horsley Castle 

- 58 

A Wonderful Eater - - - - 


James, Abraham 


Bakewell Church, Inscription on the I3ells of - 


Measham Volunteer Infantry, 1798 

- 56 

Belper Joe, or Joseph Houghton 


Millington, Rowland, alias Old Rowley 


Birchover, Inscription on Old House at 


Birkin, Richard ... - 


New way of settling Old Scores 

- 77 

Brotherton, Joseph, M.P. 


Nightingale, Florence 


Nocturnal Visitor 


Castleton Churchwarden's Accounts, 17 14 - 


Novel Mode of Raising a Glass of Grog 


Chantrey, Sir Francis, R.A.- 


Chesterfield, Original Letters of Earl of 


Okerthorp, Accompts of George Allton, 


Curious old Apothecary's Bill for Medicine 


borrow of, 1 7 1 6 


Curious Advertisement 


Our (}arden . . . . 

- 68 

Curzon, Ca])tain, and his Horse 


Outram, Sir James - 


Daft Sammy, of Casdeton • 


Palmerston, Lord, Anecdote of- 

- 64 

Barley Dale, a Tradition of - 


Prince, Edward 


Derbyshire Dales . . . . 


Risley Hall - . . . 

- 51 



Romance in Real Life 


Engraving on Black Marble 


Roman Samian Ware - 

- 58 

Fasting Damsel, The - . - . 


Slack, Samuel 


Flamstead, John .... 


Slater, Samuel - - - ; 

- 73 

Flowers of Poesy .... 


South Wingfield Manor House 


Foster, Edward - . . . 


Staine.sby, Edward, alias " Rabbi " 

- 98 

Founders of Cotton Manufacture in Derbyshire- 

Strange Farewell Address • 


Sir Richard Arkwright - 


Turner, Jacky . - . - 

- 104 

Jedediah Slrutt - - . - 


Evans, of Darley 


Wragge, George, Esq. 


Samuel Oldknow - 


William Radcliffe 



Abell, Mr. William, Brook Street Iron Works, Derby. 

Allen, R. R., Esq., Surgeon, Bclper. 

Ackroyd, Edward, Esq., F.S.A., Bank Field, Halifax. 

Appelbee, R., Esq., Belper SchooL 

Anderdon, Captain, Gay Street, Bath. 

Austin, Jlr. Thomas, Superintendent Cattle Market, Derby. 

Anderson, Mr. J., Union House, Belper. 

Adsetts, Mr. William, Duffield. 

Alton, Mr. George, York Hotel, Derby. 

AIlsop, Mr. William, Farmer, Postern. 

Abrahart, Mr. M., London Street, Derby. 

Ault, Mr. William, Kedleston Inn. 

Argile, Mr. George, Heage Hall. 

Belper, The Right Hon. Lord, Kingston Hall. 

Bass, Michael Thomas, Esq., M.P., Rangemoor. 

Ball, Thomas, Esq., Mayor of Nottingham. 

Bosworth, Rev. Joseph, D.D., of Christ Church, and Pro- 
fessor of Anglo-Saxon, Oxford, F.R.S., F.S.A., &c.. Rector 
of Water Stratford, Bucks. 

Brentnall, Mr. Councillor, Derby. 

Blackwell, John, Esq., Matlock Mills. 

Birkin, Richard, Esq., J.P., Aspley Hall, Nottingham. 

Bourne, J. H., Esq., Denby Pottery. 

Busby, C. S. B., Esq., Coroner, Chesterfield. 

Bakewell, Mr. C. H., Rotten Row, Derby. 

Bemrosc, Mr. H. II., Iron Gate, Derby. 

Bum, Mr. H., Midland Railway, Derby. 

Bloor, John, Esq., Tutbury. 

Bakewell and High Peak Institute. 

Buckley, Rev. W. A., M.A., Rector of Middleton Cheney, 

Basford, Mr. John, Macklin Street, Derby. 

Brown, John, Esq., Atlas Works, Sheffield. 

Brown, Mr. A. H., King Street, Bclper. 

Broughall, Mr. Councillor, Derby. 

Bottom, Mr. James, Franchise Street, Derby. 

Bottom, Rev. F., New York, United States. 

Bottom, Mr. George, Sherbrooke, Lower Canada. 

Brindley, Mr. William, Tenant Street, Derby. 

Borough, John, Esq., Solicitor, Derby. 

Bannister, Rev. John, M.A., St. Day, Cornwall. 

Bates, Mr. Joseph, Park Street, Derby. 

Brookes, Mr. L., Bookseller, Derby. 

Barlow, Mr. William, Park Street, Belper. 

Bramlcy, Mr. Joseph, Station-Master, Syston. 

Booth, Mr. Robert, Butts, Helper. 

Barton, Mr. William, Builder, Melbourne. 

Bailey, Mr. George, Friar Gate, Derby. 
Broadhead, Mr. F. D., Crompton Terrace, Derby. 
Brassington, Mr. J., Market Place, Derby. 
Brookhouse, Mr. Robert, Morledge, Derby. 
Berisford, Mr. James, Bridge Street, Belper. 
Bowmer, Mr. Isaac, Ridgway, near Crich. 
Bingham, Mr. Henry, Builder, Derby. 
Birley, Mr. Samuel, Ashford-in-the-Water. 
Bradbury, Mr. J., Traffic Street, Derby. 
Bower, Mr. John, Peter's Street, Derby. 
Bradshaw, Mr. G., Traffic Street, Derby. 
Bamford, Mr. William, Osmaston Road, Derby. 
Bottomley, Mr. George, Wardwick, Derby. 
Birley, Mr. George, Euckland Hollow. 

Curzon, The Hon. and Rev. F., Mickleover. 

Colvile, C. R., Esq., M.P., LuUington. 

Cox, W. T., Esq., M.P., Spondon Hall. 

Chandos-Pole, E. S., Esq., Radbourne Hall. 

Cox, The late Mrs. W., Stockbrook Villa, Derby. 

Curzon, N. C, Esq., Alvaston, Derby. 

Curzon, William, Esq., Full Street, Derby. 

Curzon, Robert, Esq., Full Street, Derby. 

Coke, Richard George, Esq., Tapton Grove, Chesterfield. 

Clarke, Rev. J. E., St. Michael's Vicarage, Derby. 

Carr, Rev. John Edmund, The Outwoods, near Derby. 

Chancellor, Rev. J., St. John's Parsonage, Derby. 

Cammell, Charles, Esq., Norton Hall. 

Cooper, C. H., Esq., F.S.A., Town Clerk, Cambridge. 

Croome, Miss, M.A.B., Middleton Cheney. 

Cartlich, Mr. Councillor, Derby. 

Cartlich, Lieutenant, New Uttoxeter Road, Derby. 

Croston, Mr. James, King Street, Manchester. 

Clulow, Mr. George, Bookseller, Derby. 

Cummings, Mr. H., Nomianton Road, Derby. 

Carrington, Mr. John, .Sandybrook, Ashborne. 

Cubley, Mrs. W., Oriel Terrace, Derby. 

Coates, Mr. Jolm, New Road, Belper. 

Cantrell, Mr. William, Peter's Street, Derby. 

Clayton, Mr. Joseph, Market Place, Derby. 

Crossley, Mr. John, Helper. 

Cupit, Mr. John, South Wingficld Manor. 

Crofts, Mr. Thomas, Market Place, Bclper. 

Cartwright, Mr. J. M., Burton-on-Trent. 

Copley, Mr. Thomas, King Street, Belper. 

Cresswell, J. Esq., .Stanton-by-Dale. 

Calvert, Mr. James, King Street, Belper. 


Devonshire, His Grace the Duke of, Chatsworth. (Two 

Dunnicliff, John, Esq., Town Clerk, Derby. 
Daniel-Tyssen, John Robert, Esq., F.S.A., Brighton. 
Darby, Henry, Esq., Wilson Street, Derby. 
Draycott, Mr. Councillor, Derby. 
Dunn, C. B. N., Esq., Surgeon, Crich. 
Disney, Charles C, Esq., Morley Park Ironworks, Belper. 
Davenport, E. C, Esq., Bank, Belper. 
Derby Mechanics' Institution. 
Dusautoy, Mr. Edward, Builder, Derby. 
Dobbs, Mr. John, Locko Park. 
Dakin, Mr. William, Miller's Dale. 
Deeley, Mr. S., Stone Merchant, Rowsley. 

Evans, Thos. Wm., Esq., M.P., AUestree Hall. 

Evans, Samuel, Esq., Darley Abbey. 

Evans, Walter, Esq., West Bank, Derby. 

Evans, The Misses, Darley. 

Evans, S. H., Esq., College Place, Derby. 

Evans, Mr. Thomas, Alfreton. 

Earp, Frank, Esq., St. Peter's Vicarage, Derby. 

Eastwood, Mr. Councillor, Derby. 

Eddowes, C. K., Esq., Solicitor, Derby. 

Ellam, Mrs., Chester Green House, Derby. 

Eadson, Mr. Samuel, Wirksworth. 

Eley, Mr. George, Farmer, Hazlewood. 

Eley, Mr. S., Marlpool, Heanor. 

Fytche, J. Lewis, Esq., F.S.A., High-Sheriff of Lincolnshire, 

Tliorpe Hall, Lincolnshire, and Risley, Derbyshire. 
Fomian, Mr. Councillor F. J., Derby. 
Foley, Rev. E. W., AU Saints' Parsonage, Derby. 
Foxcroft, Mr., Wellfield House, Crumpsall, Manchester. 
Feam, S. W., Esq., Surgeon, Derby. 
Fox, Mr. James, Engineer, Derby. 
Fox, Mr. Solomon, Builder, Wirksworth. 
Fowkes, Mr. H., Ironfounder, Derby. 
Famsworth, Mr. James, Builder, Cromford. 
Frost, Mr. T., Ironfounder, Park Street, Derby. 
Frost, Mr. W., Bull Bridge, Crich. 
Fletcher, Mr., Masson Works, Litchurch. 
Forman, Mr. E., Victoria Street, Derby. 

Gisbome, Mr. Alderman, Tenant Street, Derby. 
Gascojme, Mr. Councillor, Derby. 
Giles & Brookhouse, Messrs., Architects, Derby. 
Gamble, Mr. Councillor, Derby. 
German, Joseph, Esq., Friar Gate, Derby. 
Gregory, Mr. Wm., Victoria Street, Derby. 
Gregory, Mr. Thomas, Builder, Alfreton. 
George, Mr. Thomas, Littleover, Derby. 
Greaves, A. G., Esq., Surgeon, Wardwick, Derby. 
Greaves, E. L., Esq., Solicitor, Belper. 
Goodall, Mr. H., Peter's Street, Derby. 
Genever, Mr. Joseph, Peter's Street, Derby. 
Glover, Mr. Stephen, Derby. 
Gaskin, Mr. Thomas, Builder, Willington. 
Gummitt, Mr., Derby. 

Godbehere, Mr. Thomas, Belper. 
Godber, Mr. James, South Wingfield. 
GeU, Mr. John, Osmaston Street, Derby. 
Gadsby, Mr. John, Builder, Derby. 
Gratton, Mr. James, Bookseller, Bakewell. 
Goodwin, Mr. John, Bookseller, Bakewell. 

Hurt, Albert F., Esq., Alderwasley Hall. 

Huish, John, Esq., Heanor Hall. 

Halton, Rev. Immanuel, South Wingfield. 

Hubbersty, Philip, Esq., Wirksworth. 

Holmes, Arthur E., Esq., Alvaston. 

Harpur, Mr. Councillor, Derby. 

Hey, Rev. Robert, Rural Dean, Belper. 

Hay^vood, F. M., Esq., SoUcitor, Derby. 

Horsley, Tliomas, Esq., Kirkby Old Hall. 

Hudson, Robert, Esq., F.R.S., Clapham Common. 

Hudson, John, Esq. , Grove Villas, Derby. 

Hobson, Mr. Councillor, Derby. 

Harvey, W. K., Esq., Blyth House, Staffordshire. 

Haywood, Mr. James, Jun., Ironfounder, Derby. 

Haywood, Mr. George, Market Place, Derby. 

Huggins, Mr. E. S., King's Head Hotel, Derby. 

Hemsley, John, Esq., Melbourne, Derby. 

Harper, WiUiam, Esq., Wilson Street, Derby. 

Harrison, Thomas, Esq., The Lawn, Belper. 

Harrison, James, Esq., Lawn Cottage, Belper. 

Harrison, A. J., Esq., M.B., Walsall. 

Harrison, Mr. James, Bridge Street, Belper. 

Harrison, Mr. Samuel, Long Row, Belper. 

Harrison, Mr. J. B., Com Market, Derby. 

Harrison, Mr. J., Burton-on-Trent. 

Harrison, Jlr. H., Crompton Street, Derby. 

Harrison, Mr. G. W., Peter's Street, Derby. 

Hind, Rev. J. S., Ovington House, Prudhoe. 

Hunter, Mr. John, Savings Bank, Belper. 

Harper, Mr. Thomas J., Duffield Road, Derby. 

Hawkins, Mr. John, Morley Park. 

Haslem, Mr. John, Nottingham Road, Derby. 

Llolmes, Mr. Staff-Sergeant, Osmaston Street, Derby. 

Hancock, Mr. S., China Works, Derby. 

Henchley, Mr. Charles, Dervvent Meadows, Derby. 

Hefford, Mr. J. N., Queen Street, Derby. 

Hart, Mr. C. D., Sadler Gate, Derby. 

Holdsworth, Mr. Thomas, Clay Cross. 

Higginbottom, Mr. Wm., New Uttoxeter Road, Derby. 

Hanson, Mr. Isaac, Derby Road, Belper. 

Hibbert, Mr. John, Belper. 

Hodges, Mr. R. J., Com Market, Derby. 

Hall, G. C, Esq., Solicitor, Alfreton. 

Holly, Mr. Wm., Corn Market, Derby. 

Hunt, Mr. George Hurt, South Wingfield. 

Hunt, Mr. J., St. Peter's Street, Derby. 

Hoult, Mr. J., Derwent Street, Derby. 

Hall, Mr. James, Belper. 

HoUand, Mr. WUliam, Duffield. 

Hawksley, Mrs. Sarah, South Wingfield. 

Heath, Mr. John, Heanor. 

Hill, Mr. John, Heanor. 



Haslam, Mr. W. Coates, Swanvrick. 

Moore, Mr. Job, Harrington Villa, Derby. 

Haslam, Mr. William, Longcroft, Alfreton. 

Mason, Mr. S. H., Derwent Street, Derby. 

Hefford, Mr. Joseph, Albert Vaults, Derby. 

Martin, Mr. C. E., Queen Street, Derby. 

Hawkins, Mr. W. F., King Street, Helper. 

Martin, Mr. J. Sen., Bridge Foot, Belper. 

Haynes, Mr. James, Ironmonger, Alfreton. 

Moseley, Mr. Henry, Com Market, Derby. 

Haslam, Mr. George, Sitwell Street, Derby. 

Merchant, Mr. John, Ockbrook, Derby. 

Hay, Mr. James, Chellaston. 

Moreton, Mr. H., White Hart, Duffield. 

Halladay, Mr. J., Builder, Aston-on-TrenL 

Marbrow, Mr. W. H., Newton Solney. 

Hancock, Mr., Dale Abbey. 

Miles, Mr. W., Reporter Office, Derby. 
Mellor, Mr. David, Old Cemetery, Derby. 

Jackson, \Vm., Esq., M.P., Portland Place, London. 

Merchant, Mr. E., New Uttoxeler Road, Derby. 

Jobson, Mr. J., Derwent Foundry, Derby. 

Moore, Mr. Horatio, Duffield. 

Jones, R. A. R., Esq., Ashbome Road, Derby. 

Jarvis, Mr. R. A., Arboretum Street, Derby. 

Newbold, Mr. Councillor, Derby. 

Johnson, Mr. Frederick, Cockpit Hill, Derby. 

Newdigate, Rev. C. J., West Hallam. 

Jackson, Mr. C. W., Midland Railway, Derby. 

Newton, Mr. William, Peter's Street, Derby. 

Jackson, J. G., Esq., Solicitor, Helper. 

Newman, Rev. C. S., Constantinople. 

Jackson, Mr. William, Belper. 

Nottingham Mechanics' Institution. 

Jackson, Mr. John, Nun's Street, Derby. 

Needham, E. M., Esq., Midland Railway, Derby. 

Jefferson, Mr. R., Albert House, Derby. 

James, Mr. Isaac, Devonshire Street, Derby. 

Outram, Sir Francis Boyd, Bart., Tver Heath, Uxbridge. 

James, Mr. Joseph, South Wingfield. 

Oakes, James, Esq., Riddings House. 

Jones, Mr. James, Engraver, Com Market, Derby. 

Owen, Mr. Councillor, Derby. 

Jackson, Mr., Kedleston. 

Oakley, Mr. Councillor, Derby. 

Johnson, Mr. John, Builder, Ripley. 

Orgill, Mr. William, Hall Close, Kedleston. 
Oldershaw, Mr., Builder, Heanor. 

Kirtley, Matthew, Esq., Midland Railway, Derby. 

Kirtley, William, Esq., Midland Railway, Derby. 

Pa.\ton, Lady, Chatsworth. 

Kerr, Mrs. Isabella, Oldmaud, Aberdeenshire. 

Pegg, Mr. Alderman, Derby.' 

Keene, Mr. Richard, Bookseller, Derby. 

Parkin, John, Esq., Idridgehay. 

Keelon, Mr. James, King Street, Belper. 

Parker, Robert S., Esq., Denby Old Hall. 

Kendrick, Mr. John F.rpe, Derby Hills, Melbourne. 

Pratt, Mr. Sandford, Belper. 

I Kiddy, Mr. Samuel, Market Place, Belper. 

Pike, Mr. William, Bookseller, Derby. 

Kirk, Mr. Thomas, Bull's Moor, Belper. 

Prince, Mr. Edwin, Dariey, near Derby. 
Prince, Mr. John, St. Peter's Street, Derby. 

1 Lichfield, The Right Rev. Lord Bishop of, Eccleshall Castle. 

Prince, Mr. William, Heanor. 

1 Longdon, F., Esq., Mayor of Derby. 

Platts, Mr. Samuel, South Wingfield. 

i Latham, Rev. Canon, Little Eaton. 

Parker, Mr. E. M., King Street, Belper. 

1 Lucas, Thomas, Esq., Great George Street, Westminster. 

Poyser, Mr., Duffield. 

Laycock, W. E., Esq., Mayor of Sheffield. 

Price, Mr. James, Littlcover. 

Lucas, J. F., Esq., Middleton by ^■oulgreave. 

Pearson, Mr. Thomas, Chesterfield. 

1 Leech, Mr. Councillor, Derby. 

Peal, Mr. P., Bookseller, Derby. 

\ Lloyd, Rev. Rces L., King Street, Belper. 

Pearson, Mr. William, South Wingfield. 

1 Langhome, Thomas, Esq., Camfield Hall. 

Palmer, Mr. George, New Cemetery, Derby. 

Lamijlough, J. W., Est)., Bank, Derby. 

Pym, Mr. Benjamin, Alfreton. 

Lee, Mr. John, Osmaston Road, Derby. 

Parker, Mr. William, Midland Railway, Derby. 

Lowe, Mr. William, Stuart Street, Derby. 

Pemberton, Mr. F., Builder, Normanton Road, Derby. 

Mosley, Sir Oswald, Bart, RoUeston Hall. 

Quant, Rev. W. C, Victoria Terrace, Derby. , 

Mold, Charles John, Esq., Wingfield Park. 

Morrall, M. T., Esq., F.S.A., N.G., Matlock Bent. 

Rutland, His Grace the Duke of, Bclvoir Castle. 

Moss, Mrs., Litchurch, Derby. 

Roe, Thomas, Esq., Ex-Mayor of Derby. 

Morley, J. T., Esq., Littlcover. 

Roc, Mr. Councillor, Derby. 

Middleton, Rev. Henry, Incumbent of Codnor. 

Radford, Thomas, Esq., Camfield Hall. 

Jlorewood, C. R. P., Esq., Alfreton Park. 

Robotham, A. H., Esq., Solicitor, Derby. 

Marsh, William, Esq., High-Bailiff, Wirksworth. 

Robinson, Mr. Edward, Builder, Belper. 

Mugliston, Mr. James, Rcpton. 

Robinson, Mr. Thomas D., Bridge Street, Derby. 

Mozley, Mr. Charles, The Friary, Derby. 

Robinson, Mr. E., Encounter Bay, Australia. 

Moore, Mr. Thomas, Leicester. 


Redfern, Mr. Joseph, Willenhall, Staffordshire. 
Rice, Mr. Richard, New Uttoxeter Road, Derby. 
Rushton, Mr. R., Builder, Blythraarsh, Staffordshire. 
Ryde, Mr. Adam, Joiner, Belper. 
Redfern, Mr. George, Ashford-in-the-Water. 
Rowbottom, Mr. Samuel, Bookseller, Alfreton. 
Redfern, Mr. Frank, Poole's Cavern, Bu.\ton. 

Strutt, George Henry, Esq., Bridge Hill, Belper. 

Strutt, The Misses, Dersvent Bank, Derby. 

Strutt, Anthony, Esq., Makeney. 

Sale, Joseph, Esq., Solicitor, Derby. 

Sanders, J. H., Esq., Architect, Midland Railway. 

Stokes, George Henry, Esq., Chatsworth. 

Sturt, Edward, Esq., Wood Street, London. 

Smith, Rowland, Esq., Duffield Hall. 

Smith, Francis N., Esq., Bank, Derby. 

Smith, Mr. Councillor, Derby. 

Smith, Mr. James, Cheapside, Derby. 

Smith, Mr. J., Greenhill Lane, Alfreton. 

Smith, Mr. Philip, Builder, Ambastou. 

Shaw, John, Esq., College Place, Derby. 

Staley, Mr. George, Butterley Iron Works. 

Sowray, Mr. M. E., Post Office, Belper. 

Stevenson, Mr. Richaid, Victoria Street, Derby. 

Stevenson, Mr. George, China Works, Derby. 

Stone, Mr. S., Park Street, Belper. 

Sims, Mr. Samuel, Duffield. 

Sims, Mr. George, Nottingham. 

Spendlove, Mr. Robert, Relieving Ofiicer, Belper Union. 

Springthorpe, Mr. Robert, Heanor. 

Shaw, Mrs., Nag's Head, Belper. 

Shaw, Mr. J., Henmoor House, Kilburne. 

Shenton, Mr. George, Coal Agent, Belper. 

Suramerside, Mr. T. H., Derby. 

Slater, Mr. Samuel, Duffield. 

Statham, Mr. Isaiah, Trent Brewery, Shardlow. 

Staley, Mr. George, Glass House Fields, London. 

Swingler, Mr. Thomas, Ironfounder, Derby. 

Swan, Mr. B. H., Town Hall Stores, Derby. 

Swindell, Mr. Samuel, Alfreton. 

Turpie, Captain, Derby. 

Thompson, George, Esq., Borough Surveyor, Derby. 

Turner, Robert, Esq., T»7ford Hall, 

Turner, John S., Esq., Surgeon, Alfreton. 

Topham, Mr. Charles, Normanton Villa, Derby. 

Tempest, Mrs., Derwent House, Little Eaton. 

Tempest, Mr. J. JI., Abbey Street, Derby. 

Taylor, Mr. Tom, Bridge Street, Belper. 

Taylor, Mr. John, Royal Hotel Derby. 

Taylor, Mr. James, Grove Villas, Derby. 

Thompson, Mr. George, New Uttoxeter Road, Derby. 

Turner, Mr., Derwent Street, Derby. 

Tunaley, Mr. Thomas, Derwent Street, Derby. 

T\Tn, Mr. John, Castleton. 

Twigg, Mr. Thomas, Builder, Longford. 

Tetley, Mr. Samuel, Cockpit Hill, Derby. 

Upton, Mr. William, Sadler Gate, Derby. 

Vallack, James, Esq., Coroner of Derby. 

Whitworth, Joseph, Esq., Stancliffe Hall. 

Wright, James, Esq., Mayor of Chesterfield. 

Wilmot, E., Esq., Milford House. 

Webster, William, Esq., Belper. 

WooUey, T. S., Esq., Surgeon, Heanor. 

Wilkinson, Rev. W. F., St. Werburgh's, Derby. 

Wragge, George, Esq., Mayor of Melbourne, Australia. 

Wilson, William, Esq., Banker, Alfreton. 

Wheeldon, Mr. Councillor, Derby. 

Walters, John, Esq., Normanton Terrace, Derby. 

Wood, Mr. Councillor, Chesterfield. 

Wild, Rev. John, Castle Bytham, Stamford. 

Wheatcroft, Nathaniel, Esq., Cromford. 

Walker, J. B., Esq., Solicitor, Belper. 

Wilson, Mr. Councillor, Derby. 

Wallis, Alfred, Esq., South Parade, Derby. 

Walklate, Thomas, Esq., Mfdland Railway, Derby. 

Webster, Mr. John, Queen Street, Belper. 

Webster, Mr. John, New Road, Belper. 

Welbourne, Mr. Robert, Friar Gate, Derby. 

Whittaker, Mr. Robert, Belper. 

Woolhouse, Mr. Richard, Nag's Head Yard, Derby. 

Williamson, Mr. Richard, South Wingfield. 

Walton, Mr. George, Market Place, Derby. 

Watson, Mr. John. Prospect Cottages, Belper. 

Walkerdine, Mr. Jesse, Jun., Friar's Terrace, Derby. 

Watson, Mr. Thomas, Loscoe Fields. 

Walker, Mr. John, Wardwick, Derby. 

Wade, Mr. .Samuel, Mickleover. 

Wade, Mr. Samuel, Peter's .Street, Derby. 

Weston, Mr. John, Havelock Villa, Derby. 

Woodiwiss, Mr. A., Hornby, near Lancaster. 

W' hite, Mr. J., Park Street, Derby. 

Winter, Mr. T. W., Photographer, Derby. 

Walstowe, Mr. Edward, Sadler Gate, Derby. 

Wragge, Mr. George, Chaddesden. 

Williamson, Mr. H., Belper. 

Ward, Mr, Frederick, South Hill Villa, Derby. 

Wilson, Mr. John, Timber Merchant, Alfreton. 

Wright, Mr. Joseph, Sadler Gate, Derby. 

Winson, Mr. Humphrey, Bidl Bridge. 

Webster, Mr. M., Friar Gate, Derby. 

West, Mr. John, Heanor. 

Wood, Mr. Samuel, Heanor. 

Wood, Mr. George, Nag's Head Yard, Derby. 

Watson, Mr. William, New Inn, Belper. 

Watson, Mr. Samuel, Market Place, Belper. 

Wade, Mr. B., Market Place, Belper. 

Wilkinson, Mr. J. W., County Tavern, Derby. 

Weet, Mr. Job, Brook Tavern, Belper. 



SN introducing to our readers this new candidate for public approval — a volume of Derbyshire 
Gatherings — it may not be deemed inappropriate if we offer a few observations on the work to 
which we have addressed ourself — the mission which we hope to fulfil. 
This volume may truly be said to owe its origin to the suggestions of many friends; who, having in- 
spected and admired our repository or museum of antiquities, portraits, autographs, &c., considered that 
some record should be published, to render a portion of its varieties accessible to " the many " in a printed 
form. " On .this hint," after mature consideration, wc went to work, although we have but little leisure 
time for such a purpose; however, "where there's a will there's a way," and here is the product of our 
labour. The volume makes no pretensions to high literary character; the greater portion of its contents 
is the result of our evenings' occupation ; of what time could be spared from more imperative engagements. 
It appears, therefore, under all the disadvantages of a first essay in the literary world, unguarded by long 
and elaborate revision. This being the case, we trust that our defects or shortcomings will be pardoned, 
and every critical mercy extended to our maiden effort in biographic and antiquarian lore. 

" Now reader, ere this book you scan, 
Resolve to prove a candid man ; 
Not critic-like, seek faults to find. 
And every beauty leave bcliind ; 
But, should a weed appear iti sight, 
A llower cull, to make it right. 
And thus you'll prove a candid soul ; 
Judge not a portion, but the whole. 
This done, premising you think fit 
That others should in judgment sit, 
Let Justice at the scales preside, 
And strictest Truth the c.ise decide." 

We are conscious there are many faults, and possibly some errors, but not intentional ones. It has been 
a heavy and laborious task to collect and glean so many facts, as are given in the various memoirs of so 
many different characters ; all of which we have endeavoured to pourtray in a pleasing, genuine, and 
attractive style. It may be objected by some, that these memoirs of individuals are too brief; but our 
limits would not allow of a more extended notice, and our readers will find we have sketched the principal 
events occuring in their lives. 

Dcrby.shire, hitherto, has had few works devoted to the sj)ecial biogra])hy of its numerous sons and 
daughters who have made themselves famous, not only in our own dear old county, but in every country 
of the world. Wherever the English language is spoken, there ^^ill Derbyshire men be found, occupying 
some of the first and foremost jilaccs in the van of enterprise and human progress. 

These memoirs comprise but a few of those Derbyshire worthies, who first drew breath iii the midst 
of the lovely dales and mountain scenery for which our county is famous; in fact, our difficulty has not 
been to extend, but to confine our materials within moderate limits, and to select generally such characters 
as would be an emulation and incentive to hope in our youth, an antidote to despair under any circumstances, 
and a subject of pride and reflection in maturity. A few portraits are introduced, neither as examples nor 
warnings, but as subjects of drollery or pity. 

The author cannot refrain, in this ])lace, from naming some of those who have rendered themselves 
illustrious by their virtues or their talents, in the Field, the Senale, the liar, the Church, Engineering, 
Painting, Sculpture, and in the other various walks of art, as well as in the products of its horny-handed 




sons of labour. \\Tierever and whenever any great peril had to be encountered; any great enterprise 
conducted to a successful termination ; or any great work in any branch of labour, which required both 
head and hands to bring it to perfection, there will their names be found, amongst the promoters or the 
producers, or both. Amongst its numerous warriors who have fought and bled for the sake of their 
native land, may be named Sir Ralph Shirley and the Derbyshire archers, who, with their good yew bows 
and cloth-vard shafts, fought, with Edward the Black Prince, at the battles of Cressy and Poictiers, and 
were victorious against overwhelming odds ; who, also, under H(^ir)- the Fifth, were placed in the front 
rank at the memorable battle of Agincourt ; and who, with their bare breasts and arms and warlike ai> 
pearance, and well-earned reputation in former battles, struck terror into their enemies. This is not the 
time or place for details of these battles ; the French, though overwhelmingly superior in numbers, had to 
succumb, after an obstinate and bloody resistance, to the sturdy valour of our archers and others. At the 
latter battle, the archers killed the principal commanders and the Constable of France ; and to them was 
allowed the honour of the day. 

To give a tithe of all the memorable battles in which Derbyshire has taken its honourable share, 
would fill a volume; but all our readers will remember the celebrated charge of the gallant 95th (Derby- 
shire) Regiment, which was first and foremost on the Heights of Alma ; in which conflict they suffered 
severely, their colours being so riddled with shot, that the word " Derbyshire '' could hardly be deciphered. 
These same colours may now be seen over die monument erected in All Saints' Church, Derby, to the 
memory of those who fell in the Crimea. 

Of eminent dignitaries of the Church, who were natives of the county, we find Cardinal Repington ; 
Cardinal Curzon ; LavvTence Bothe, Archbishop of York ; Anthony Bee, Bishop of Durham ; Geoffrey Blythe, 
Bishop of Lichfield and Coventry; John Blythe, Bishop of Salisbury ; John Bothe, Bishop of Durham ; George 
Coke, Bishop of Hereford ; William Grey, Bishop of Ely ; Samuel Halifax, Bishop of St. Asaph ; Francis 
Hutchinson, Bishop of Down and Connor; Thomas Fanshaw Middleton, Bishop of Calcutta; Robert Purs- 
glove, Bishop of Hull; W. A. Shirley, Bishop of Sodor and Man; and the present Bishops of Sydney and 

Amongst the eminent Law-givers of the county, we may name Sir Anthony Fitzherbert, of Norbury, 
whose quaint old volumes, entitled " An abridgement of the Law," " The Natura Brevium," &c., pubhshed 
in the 15th centur}', are still highly esteemed; Sir John Cockayne, Chief Baron of the Exchequer, in the 
reign of Richard 2nd; Ralph Pole, Justice of the King's Bench, who died in the year 1452; Francis 
Rodes, Justice of the Common Pleas, in the time of Queen Elizabeth; Sir John Eardley Wilmot, Chief 
Justice ; Sir William Coke, Justice of Ceylon ; Lord Denman ; Judge Balguy ; and the recently deceased 
Judge Crompton, who was born in Derby. 

Did space allow, this list might be extended indefinitely, through all the multifarious professions, 
sciences, trades, and philosophies, that have flourished and faded. Derbyshire sons are to be found in the 
ranks of imagination, fancy, poetry, art, morals, and invention ; and many of them have gained a niche, 
not only among the worthies of Derbyshire, but as benefactors of the human race. Few counties can 
produce a more splendid array of talent and ingenuity, than is to be found amongst our native Engineers 
and workers in iron. We ought to bless God, who has placed in our midst those two genii of the lamp 
of England's glor}'. Ironstone and Coal — precious gifts, by which the brain of science and the hand of art 
have wrought out a nation's wealth and power. Our Derbyshire Iron was acknowledged to be the best, 
at a late competition with the manufacturers of France and Sweden, on a trial of armour plates for French 
vessels. Our Derby railway waggon-wheels are noted for their strength and durability. Wien the great 
World's Fair was proposed to be held in London, in the year 185 1, Derbyshire found a Paxton to plan, 
and a Fox to erect, the magnificent palace of glass, in which were exhibited the wonders of nature, science, 
art, and industry, of every principal nation on our globe. 

The great Iron Works at Butteriey, Codnor Park, Staveley, Clay Cross, and Derby, have turned out 
many of the most stupendous works of modem times, and have also furnished many Engineers for the Royal 
Navy and our ocean steamers. Joseph Beardmore, the manager of the works of the General Steam Navigation 
Company, who, we beheve, own the largest fleet of vessels of any company in existence, was once a wliimsey 



engine tenter, under the Butterley Company. Derbyshire men have also been connected with most of the great 
works executed in London. Mr. George .Allen, a native of Ashover, had the management of the stone- 
work at the New Houses of Parliament ; and Mr. James Cowlishaw, of Derby, had the entire management 
of the works, during the erection of the Royal E.xchange. Mr. George Fumess, of Great Longstone, is 
the contractor for the present magnificent undertaking, " The Thames Embankment," which will cost at the 
very least, ^^5 20,000 1 He also executed the works for the "Great Northern Outfall Sewer, and Great 
Reservoir ;" the most gigantic enterprise ever undertaken for a sanitar)- purpose, not only in London, but 
in the world. In the Army Works Corps, formed by Sir Joseph Paxton, to face the dangers, and assist 
our soldiers in the Crimean war, many of the officers and men were from Derbyshire. To Derbyshire 
the world owes James Brindley, the founder of Canal Navigation, and other large engineering works. But, 
as already remarked, it is impossible even to give an outline of the worthies and their works, which 
Derbyshire has given to the world: else we could dwell ujjon the silk manufacture and its founders; 
of the introduction of silk into this country; of Mr. Crochet, who established in 1702, the first silk-mill in 
England, in Derby; of Mr. John Lombe, who erected, about the year 1717, a silk-mill, on an island in 
the river Derwent, at a cost of ;^3o,ooo ; which mill, yet standing, is called " The Old Silk-mill." But 
space forbids ; we may, however, mention the dangers and difliculties encountered by John Lombe, such 
as assassination in Italy, while learning the secrets of the manufacture ; the difficulty of building on 
a swampy island ; and, during the four years occupied in the erection of the building, using hired rooms 
in our Town Hall, where he erected temporary machines, worked by hand. All this is but emblematic of 
the ingenuity, bravery, and perseverance of many of our county sons, names we must omit at 

" Our Fathers .' time its record bears 
To their unblemished fame ; 

And every olden spot en<lcars 
Some high and saintly name. 

Earth teems with memories of those 

Whom ages guard in deep repose." 

Our county itself, as well as its natives, is worthy of an elaborate pen and pencil. Being situated 
in the centre of England, with an irregular and mountainous surface, which gives rise to a beautiful and 
ever-varying scenery, to which are added many wonderful natural curiosities, it is rendered particularly inter- 
esting, not only to the tourist, the artist, but also to the invalid, for its pure and healthy atmosphere. 
Derbyshire, although it lacks the charm of a sea-view, yet, from its inland position, escapes, in a great degree, 
from the raw air which pierces the lungs of the weak, and from the storms which devastate the coast. 

The mineral and geological treasures of Derbyshire, such as alabaster, cr)'stal, antimony, marble, lead, 
iron, and coals, are well known everywhere. Its lead mines were worked in the byegone time of the 
Roman occu])ation. Its building .stones fomi the principal material in the finest erections of modern 
times, in London, Birmingham, Liverpool, Manchester, and other towns. Its rivers are as beautiful, 
silvery, and famous, as ever poet embalmed in song. Lord B>Ton, in his letter to Moore, said the scenery 
in Derbyshire was as noble as any in Greece or Switzerland ; and Sir Walter Scott found a subject for one 
of his most celebrated Waverley Novels, in the " Peveril of the Peak." 

" Never sun 

Viewed in its wide career a lovelier spot 

For all that life can ask ; salubrious, mild ; 

Its hills are green, its woods and prospects fair. 

Its meadows fertile ; and, to crown the whole, 

In one delightful word, // is our /wnu!" 

In conclusion, we must offer our sincere thanks to those friends who have rendered us assistance in 
producing what, without the charge of presumptuous confidence, we may call the beautiful volume, now 
presented to our readers. To Mr. John Haslem, Mr. F. D. Broadhead, Mr. George Bailey, and Mr. J. 
Brassington, we are indebted for the pictorial illustrations; and from J. L. Fytche. Esq., F.S.A., Mr. J. 
Croston, Mr. Paterson, Mr. Springthoqje, and Mr. John T)n), we liave received much infonnation for the 



literary portion of the work. We also look Viiili both pride and pleasure on the numerous list of Sub- 
scribers, as showing the great interest taken in the subjects to which we have devoted ourself, and also 
the confidence they have reposed in us. 

We now take leave of all, with our heartfelt wishes for their welfare and prosperity ; hoping, ere long, 
as we have been unable to do full justice to the worthies of the count)', to produce, if spared, and in 
compliance with the wishes of many of our subscribers, a second volume, which we will endeavour to 
make more interesting, if possible, than the present, as we have abundant materials for the purpose. We 
shall, nevertheless, at all times, be glad to hear from any of our readers, who may possess any relics or 
objects of interest, worthy of illustration in our pages ; and to all who take a pleasure in these matters, 
we shall be pleased to show our museum of Derbyshire antiquities, portraits, &:c., collected during a long 
series of years. 

I, Stafford Terrace, J. B. R. 

Derby, 1866. 








" Little efforts work great actions ; 
Lessons in our childhood taught, 
Mould the spirit of that temper 

Whereby glorious deeds are wrought." 

lORACE WALPOLE said, that men are often capable of greater things than they perform. They 
are sent into the world with bills of credit, and seldom draw to their full extent ; but when they 
do draw to the full extent, their lives become histor)-; for what is history, but the biography of 
great men. As Longfellow says — 

" Lives of great men all remind us 
We can make our lives sublime." 

Events are the elements of history, but men are the creators of events. Biography, therefore, takes us 
more into the interior of circumstances than history, and brings us nearer a true comprehension of social 
life, than chronicles and annals. History is a large hemispheral map, on which minuti.u are not desired. 
Biography is a smaller map, but it is better filled in with details. The scales on which they are con- 
structed differ ; events occupy the foremost position in historical narration ; in biography, on the contrary, 
the inner life is the primal object of investigation a'ld exhibition. The results of life appear in history, 
the productive forces of results receive the attention of biography. The greatness, value, antl responsibility 
of life consist in this, that it is the originator of change, the agent by which the evolution of events is 
accomplished. This is why we have all a right of property in each other's being, and a desire of knowing 
in what manner the purposes of life have been fulfilled by our neighbours ; for 

" All are needed by each one ; 
Nothing is fair or good alone." 

And when, among the men of our neighbourhood, as it were, we discover one whose career was one of 
taste, intelligence, and wealth, we shall do well to inquire whether some instructi\e lesson may not be 
drawn from his life. 

Francis Chantrcy, the subject of this sketch, was born on the 7th of April, 1781, at Jordanthorpe, 
Norton, a pleasant village, near the northern boundary of Derbyshire. His parents were rather poor; and 
his father dying when he was twelve years old, the principal education he ever received was at home, from 
his mother, with some irregular tuition at a village school. He was driven by necessity to earn his own 
living, at a very early age; and his youthful occupations were, driving an ass, daily, with milk-barrels, 
l)etween Norton and Sheffield, and attending cows, in the fields or the byres at Jordanthorpe.- He was 
afterwards apprenticed to a grocer, in Fargate, Sheffield; but a very short probation behind a counter, in 
an unintellectual occupation, sufficed to convince both the lad and his friends, that this business was not 
to his taste. He selected car\ing and gilding as the business best suited for him, and accordingly was 
transferred from the grocer's to Mr. Ramsay, carver and gilder, of Sheffield. In this establishment, where 
there were a large collection of prints, plaster models, and other works of art, young Chantrey's taste for 
Sculpture developed itself. Allan Cunningham well illustrates the assertion that genius draws its materials 
from many sources, by stating, "The sight of a few prints in an obscure village in Yorkshire awakened 
the spark in Stothard ; the car\ed figures in an old picture frame did as much for Chantrey." 



There are many traditions afloat as to young Chantreys precocious ingenuity, but it is hard to state 
what is true and what false. We are told that he was in the habit of cutting figures on the knobs of 
sticks while driving his ass to Sheffield with milk ; that he formed models of the butter in the dairj^ ; 
decorating the dough of pies; moulding objects of clay in the gutters; and that when at last he found 
congenial emplo>Tiient among images, pictures, pencils, and tools, he used to sit until midnight in his 
obscure studio, drawing, modelling, or poring over anatomical plates. 

The earliest specimen of Chantrey's drawing, is of a periwinkle flower, in the house of Mr. Biggins, 
Jordanthorpe. On it is inscribed — " F. Chantrey, fecit, 1798." In 1802 we find him in London, working 
as a Sculptor, in which profession he never had any instruction, but it was uphill work for a long time. 

It seems singular, but it is true, that Portrait Painting rather than Sculpture, was the first love of 
Chantrey, as well as the earliest source of a decent pecuniary recompense. His charge averaged from 5 
to 20 guineas ; and we learn that he was only diverted from the full pursuit of Painting as a profession 
by " one of those fortunate accidents upon which the destiny of an indi\idual so often seems to turn." 

John Holland, in his "Memorials of Chantrey," relates that when in 181 1, Chantrey sent his bust of 
Home Tooke to Somerset House, Nollekens the great bust Sculptor, viewed it earnestly, lifted it from the 
floor, set it before him, moved his head to and fro, and having satisfied himself of its excellence, turned 
round to those who were arranging the works for e>diibition, and said, "There's a fine, a very fine busto ; 
let the man who made it be known — remove one of my busts, and put this in its place, for it well 
deserves it." 

That Chantrey was foreshadowed as England's greatest Sculptor is evident from this fact. In 1805, 
the Reverend James Wilkinson, the venerated Vicar of Sheffield, died, and it was determined to erect a 
Monument to his memory. A marble bust of the Vicar was to form part of the Monument, and it was 
resolved that to Chantrey should be entrusted its execution. This was the first head that he had ever 
chiselled, and the result was entirely successful. The poet Montgomer}' was prophetic of the young Artist's 
career, and did not scruple to proclaim it in prose and verse. 

The following lines written by a lady appeared in the Sheffield Iris, Januarj' 20, 1807 : — 

"'Tis thine, O Chantrey! thus \rith matcliless skill 
To mould our passions at thy plastic will ; 
And as the marble grows beneath thy hand. 
Our charmed feelings rise at thy command ; 
Blest is the hand that gives the mourner rest. 
That pours the 'joy of grief into his breast : 
Dear is the power that soothes the tender heart ; 
Sweet are the consolations of thy art : 
Oh ! wondrous art — which thus the face can save, 
Which fond affection follows to the grave ! 
Pursue the path you now so gently tread, 
And save from 'dumb forgetfulness ' the honoured dead." 

About 1809 Chantrey's reputation as a Sculptor may be said to have commenced, and it proceeded 
very rapidly to maturit)'. He obtained the order to execute " The Four Admirals " for " Inigo Jones' 
Hall," at Greenwich ; this was followed by a Statue of His Majesty for the Council Chamber at Guildhall ; 
busts also of Pitt, Sir Francis Burdett, Benjamin West, Lord Meadowbank, Curran, Stothard, Northcote, 
Professor Pla)'fair, Duke of Wellington, James Watt, Marquis of Anglesey, Sir Everard Home, Sir Joseph 
Banks, Nollekens, Sir James Clarke, &c., &c. 

Chantrey's establishment at this period must have been an admirable treat to the favoured visitor. 
Bernard Barton, the Quaker poet, thus describes the Sculptor's rooms as they appeared towards the close 
of his professional career — 

"It was worth something to steal out of the din and hubbub of crowded streets into those large, still, cathedral-like rooms 
of Chantrey's ; populous with phantom-like statues, or groups of statues as large or larger than life ; some tinted with dust 
and time, others of spectral whiteness, but all silent and solemn. To roam about among these, hearing nothing but the distant 
murmur of rolling carriages, and, now and then, the clink of the workman's chisel in some of the yards or workshops." 







Chantrey liaii now become the unrivalled Sculptor of the day, was the admired of the highest ranks of 
society, and had realized all that Mrs. Hoffland had predicted upon seeing his bust of Wilkinson in 1807. 

"Hail! to the artist who, from mouldering earth, 
SnatchM the fine semblance of departeil worth ; 
From death's dread empire, won each living grace, 
And breathed perfection o'er the plastic face ; 
Chantrey, be thine the undivided aim. 
To seize the Sculptor's rare and glorious fame, 
From Attic honours pluck unfading bays. 
And rival Athens in her ]>roudest days." 

Chantrey won universal favour and ajiplause as a Sculptor by no merely imitative process, but as Allan 
Cunningham justly said, " he formed his taste on no style but that of nature, and no work of any age or 
country but his own can claim back any inspiration which they have lent him." 

We learn that it was Chantrey's custom before commencing a bust to invite the sitter to breakfast. 
He liked to see his sitter with his morning looks on, and in conversation, and without the remotest idea 
that he was sitting for his portrait. After breakfast the comjjany adjourned to the Studio ; the sitter's face 
was caught mathematically in the Camera, and tlien the clay model was commenced. The sitter was not 
called upon to sit in a throne or vice, but allowed to wander within easy shot. Clay was manipulated 
into life, and the bust, as far as the so-called sitter was concerned, unconsciously completed. 

Of the man. Sir Francis Chantrey, our readers might like to know something, and we give the following 
description, which is from the pen of Allan Cunningham, than whom no man in England knew the 
Sculptor better. 

" Sir Francis Chantrey was about 5 feet 7 inches high, of a stout make, and one of the most active and vigorous men of 
his time, but latterly inclining to corpulency. His head and face were very fine, his mouth exquisitely chiselled — Lord Byron's 
not finer or more expressive ; his eyes round and lustrous, one useless for vision, but in no way apparently different from its 
fellow. He had been bald from an early age. His voice was agreeable; his conversation humourous and sarcastic by turns, 
and always animated. He had mixed much with the world, and, unlike the Hermit of I'aniell, knew it better by experience 
than by books. He had been much of a reader in his youth ; and had that happy and rare art of learning from conversation 
what others seek and acquire in books and silent study ; his knowledge was, therefore, very general ; and there was scarce a 
topic at table but what he could speak, and very ably upon. His reputation, his manner, and matter, always commanded 
attention. Then, how delightful were his dinner parties ; not for the viands only, though they were always of the choicest 
description, but for his own sake; for he talked much, and made a stranger's diffidence rub off, by touching on subjects he 
knew would be agreeable to him. Then, too, his conversation w.ts not addressed to one or two on his immediate right or left, 
but was aimed at the whole company. Dr. Johnson would have loved his table, and would have been reminded of tlie dinners 
he enjoyed so much, at Sir Joshua's and Allan Ramsay's." 

The wTiter never had the pleasure of a personal acquaintance with the eminent Sculptor, but he had 
the melancholy pleasure, shortly after his death, of i)assing through Chantrey's Studios in Eccleston Place, 
London. Many of Chantrey's busts came into his possession some years ago, which had formerly been in 
Deville's once noted Museum, in the Strand. The wTiter also is in possession of the first pointing machine* 
made by Chantrey, for taking copies from his plaster models, as well as some of his modelling tools and 
sketches. He prizes these much because they were Chantrey's. 

The majority of the precious objects which formed the attraction of Chantrey's rooms during his life- 
time, are preserved for the instruction of future ages, in the University Galleries, at Oxford, having been 

• Chantrey's invention of the Pointing Machine, an instrument used by sculptors, for measuring statues, though lying in a 
subordinate line of art, is very valuable, and far surp-i-sses the invention of Bacon, for its accuracy and rajiidity. Hudon, an 
eminent French sculptor, on visiting London, saw this instniment for the first time, in Bacon's studio, and expressed himself 
so strongly concerning its beauty and usefulness, that Chantrey immediately presented him with one. Some time afterwards, a who had come through I'aris, called on Bacon, and observing Chantrey's instrument, exclaimed, in surjirise, "So you 
have got M. Hudon's instrument for taking points! I see you don't object to copying the French in some particulars." An 
explanation took place, when it appeared that Hudon had passed it off for an invention of his own. Chantrey so much 
pleased with his new instrument, that he sent correct drawings of it to Canova. The illustrious Italian acknowledged the benefit 
which such an instrument would confer on art, but lamented that he could not find a head in Rome, mechanical enough to 
comprehend the drawings. 



presented by Lady Chantrey to that Institution, after the great Sculptor's death. They are all preserved 
together in a saloon called "The Chantrey Gallery." 

Chantrey, while on a visit to Holkham, in Norfolk, had the fortune to kill two Woodcocks at one 
shot, a feat of which he was very proud, and commemorated the event in marble. The two Woodcocks 
are cut out in the Sculptor's best manner, and the following verses record the circumstance : — 

" The snowy hills of Norway bred us, 
The silver springs of Holkham fed us ; 
A Sculptor, as we wing'd our way, 
Held out his gun and made us clay ; 
But, sorrowing for us as we fell, 
To marble turned us by a spell. 
Princes and peers flocked in a bevy, 
And said, ' How glorious done in gravy !' 
Geologists * looked marvelling on, 
But feeling cried, ' By God ! a stone.' 
How blest our fate o'er men and mice, 
Heaven made us once, and Chantrey twice!" 

Chantrey was animated and attractive in conversation, was simple in his manners, and although asso- 
ciated with the highest in the land, he was never pufied up to unseemly pride. He loved to retrace his 
lowly origin and his early struggles, and was much attached to the place of his birth. He left a will, in 
which he provides that the whole of his fortune, (with the exception of a few minor bequests), said to 
be about ^90,000, should, after the death of Lady Chantrey, who is still living, become the property of 
the Royal Academy, for the purpose of purchasing ^Vorks of Art. 

Sir Francis Chantrey died very suddenly at his residence in Eccleston Street, Pimlico, London, on the 
25 th Noveinber, 184T, aged sixty years. Referring to the solemn sight his body presented in its winding- 
sheet on the night of the inquest, a Journalist says : — " In an exquisite little galler)', built for him by Sir 
John Soane, who always was good when his limits were cramped, lay the body of the great Sculptor — 
his eyes closed, his face calm, but with an expression serene and solemn even in death. Above were 
wax-lights burning clearly, and all around a collection of the finest casts from the antique. The Laocoon 
was at his head, the Venus and the Apollo on his right and left, and around the room the Ilissus and 
the Theseus, and other of the glories of Greece, with one or two of Canova's casts and copies of his own 
works." His remains, after lying in state amidst those creations of his genius, industry, and fame, which 
had so recently formed the chann of his li\"ing presence, were remo^•ed to Norton for interment, conform- 
ably with his will. 

He died childless, as did also the contemporary Sculptors Nollekens and Flaxmaii. An Obelisk has 
been raised to his memory upon Norton Green, a short distance from the churchyard where his body is 
interred, in a vault prepared during his life-time. The obelisk is of Cheesewring granite, consisting of one 
block, twenty-two feet in height, and three feet square at its base. The design is by Mr. Philip Hardwick, 
R. A., and is one of characteristic simplicity. The only inscription it bears is the name 


►Chantrey's great friends. Professors Buckland and Sedgwick. 

Lieutenant-Ceneral Sir James Outram, Bart C.C.B. 

THE Bi>iiyARo oy luxyiff-. 




HERE is notliing we more quickly recognize in an individual than character; and we hardly know 
of anything so palpable to the senses that is so hard to define clearly. The words Shakespeare 
puts into the mouth of Coesar, give an imperfect idea of it 

" I could be well moved if I were as you ; 
If I could pray to move, prayers would move me ; 
But I am constant as the Northern Star, 
Of whose true fixed and resting quality, 
There is no fellow in the firmament. 
The skies are painted with unnumbered sparks ; 
They are all fire, and every one doth shine ; 
But there's but one in all doth hold his place ; 
So in the world. 'Tis furnished well «ith men, 
And men are flesh and blood, and apprehensive ; 
Yet, in the number, I know but one 
That imassailable holds on his rank 
Unshaked of motion." 

If ever there was one man more than another whose requirements of character came up to Shakespeare's 
standard, that man was the subject of the present sketch. 

Lieutenant-General Sir James Outram, G.C.B., K.S.I., whose chivalrous and brilliant career won him the 
designation of " The Bayard of India," was the scion of an old and honourable Derbyshire (ixmily, which 
originally settled at Alfreton. He was the son of Benjamin Outram, Esq., of Butterley Hall, Derbyshire, an 
eminent civil engineer, by his wife, Margaret, daughter of James Anderson, Esq., L.L.B., and M.A., of Monnie, 
Aberdeenshire. Sir James Outram was brother of Mrs. George Sligo, of Seacliff House, Haddingtonshire, 
whose only daughter, the widow of Sir William Cornwallis Harris, married, secondly in 1859, Archibald 
Vincent Smith Sligo, Esq., of Inzievar; and Sir James's other Sister, Margaret, wife of Lieutenant-General 
Farquharson, of the Bombay Army, was mother of the Baroness Hugel, wife of the late Austrian Ambassador 
at Florence. 

Sir James Outram was born at Butterley Hall, on the 29th of January, 1803, and was educated at Dr. 
Bi.sset's school at Udney, and at Marischal College, both in Aberdeenshire. He entered the 23rd Bombay 
Corps as a Cadet in 1820, and quitted it, a Lieutenant, to command and discipline the Bheel Corps, which 
he did with great success. From 1S28 to 1835 he served in Candeish, and organized a regular force in 
1835 at Guzerat, and successively held the i)0sts of Commissioner in Upper Scinde, and of Resident at 
Sattara, Baroda, and Lucknow. In 1838 he accompanied Sir John (afterwards Lord) Keane as extra Aid- 
de-Camp to Affghanistan, and took part in the capture of Ghuznee. In 1856 Outram, then a Colonel, was 
appointed Chief Commissioner of Oude ; and in 1857 he was chosen to command the Persian expedition, 
and made a K.C.B. He was at Bushire, Kooshab, Mohammerah, and other engagements ; but, owing to an 
injury, resulting from a fall from his horse, was debarred from taking a very active part Scarcely hail he 
returneil from this expedition before he found himself called to share with the heroic Havelock the most 
serious duty that, perhajjs, ever fell upon true and gallant men in India — viz., the supjjression of the Sejioy 
insurrection, then at the height of its guilt and cruelty. After the suppression of tlie Mutiny he was ap|)ointed 
Chief Commissioner of Oude ; but differing with Lord Canning in the ijolicy pursued to the Talookdars, he 
left for Calcutta. In 1S57 he was made a G.C.B. ; in 1858 he was promoteil to a Lieutenant-Generalship 


for "eminent services ;" and was created a Baronet on the loth of November of that year. Lord Palmerston 
carried a vote of thanks to him in the Commons on the 8th of February, 1858 ; and Lord Panmure did 
the same in the Upper House, both warmly eulogizing Sir James's conduct. For two years after this Outram 
worked as President of the Council of India. He protested against the amalgamation of the Indian Army 
with the Queen's, and published a long and valuable minute on the subject. He then returned to England, 
wth his health so shattered that it was a wonder how he bore the voyage. Honours awaited him at all 
points, but he could only faintly enjoy them. He was presented with the freedom of the City of London, and 
with a sword worth one hundred guineas, on the 20th of December, i860, pursuant to a vote of the Corporation 
of October 7th, 1858. On the creation of the Order of the Star of India, Sir James Outram was enrolled 
among its first knights. In July, 1862, he received the honorary degree of D.C.L. from the University of 
O.xford. Sir James Outram married, December i8th, 1835, Margaret Clementina, second daughter of James 
Anderson, Esq., J. P., of Bridge-end, Brechin, Forfarshire; and by her, who survives him, he leaves an only 
child his successor. Sir James Outram died at Pau, in France, on the nth of April, 1863, and is succeeded 
by his son, now Sir Francis Boyd Outram, the second Baronet, who was bom in 1836. He married, in i860, 
Jane Anne, eldest daughter of Patrick Davidson, Esq., of Inchmarlo, Aberdeenshire. His present residence is 
Iver Heath, Uxbridge. 

The nation heard of the death of Sir James Outram with a grief enhanced by disappointment that he 
had not lived to enjoy its gratitude, admiration, and those well-earned honours which his services had so 
nobly won. The Earl of Derby, in proposing a vote of thanks in the House of Lords, did but feebly echo 
the voice of the nation when he said — " The earlier services of Sir James Outram during this rebellion are 
perfectly well known to your Lordships, who have not forgotten the noble forbearance and generous self-denial 
with which he met General Havelock, on his return from his first attempt upon Lucknow, when he abstained 
from superseding him in the command until the final relief of the garrison, and left that gallant officer to 
obtain that glory which he had so well merited by his previous efforts. After the relief of the garrison and 
the retirement of the Commander-in-Chief, Sir James Outram was left with a small force in the exposed and 
perilous post at Alurabagh, arid there he was exposed for several months to the constant assaults of an enemy 
ten times his force — assaults however, which, on every occasion, he successfully repelled, until the Commander- 
in-Chief again returned to the siege of Lucknow. Sir James Outiam maintained his post, and in maintaining 
it he made it clear to the Natives of India that they were not to suppose that the retirement of the 
Commander-in-Chief was more than a temporary withdrawal." Lord Stanley in the House of Commons 
said — " The services of Sir James Outram require, I imagine, no mention from me in order to become known 
to this House. We are all aware how, in conjunction with Sir Henry Havelock, he penetrated into Lucknow 
with reinforcements in the month of September, 1857 ; how he took command of the garrison, and remained 
there until relieved by Lord Clyde, in the month of November ; how he held the isolated and exposed post 
of the Alumbagh until March, in the face of vast bodies of rebels, whom he kept in check ; and how he aided 
in the final capture of Lucknow." 

We merely quote these expressive testimonies as but samples of hundreds of others from all ranks, and 
ever}' class of the community. He was indeed " the Bayard of India, sans peur ei sans reprocher His modesty, 
as we have seen, was equal to his gallantry, and both were matched by his generosity and humanity. It will 
long be remembered in India, how, when during the heat and fire of Lucknow, he dismounted from his horse 
to protect a poor native lad whose parents had been slain, and who sat weeping by the roadside. The following 
anecdote is also very characteristic of the man : — 

" A magnificent tiger, ' a man-eater,' was hunted and struck, but not mortally wounded — the beast 
dashed away as only wounded tigers can, followed by the staunchest sportsmen of the party. At last it was 
found again, but, to the disgust of all, the animal had gone to earth in a dark and ugly cavern, about the last 
place to close single-handed with such a " Shitan." Men who could have fought in the open like Spartans, 
would not go to be crushed like rats in a sewer, and the tiger appeared to have escaped, when out of tlie 
crowd came a short, thick-set Feringee, with a quick black eye, and a pleasant smile upon his face. Merely 
asking where the beast was concealed, he quietly dismounted, grasped his rifle, stepped into the den, and 
passed from the sight of the admiring natives. Presently there was heard the sharp ring of the sportsman's 


rifle, and James Outram re-appeared, a conqueror indeed of the ' man-eater,' but quite as much so of the 
impulsive Ishmaelites, who recognized in him honour and civilization, associated with true courage." 

Sir James, in his noble modesty, was sincerely of ojiinion that his country had many a better servant than 
himself in India and elsewhere ; but taking him " for all in all," we cannot but feel that 

' ' Wc ne'er shall look upon his like again. " 
For he was not merely a soldier, a man of might and courage in the field — nor even a mere statesman or 
administrator ; for he joined to the qualities that fit a man for great and responsible public posts, the rarest 
and most estimable of the personal characteristics and accomplishments that make an individual beloved and 
honoured, nay, almost idolized, in private life. He was so modest and humane, with such a womanly 
tenderness and delicacy of nature — 

" And of his port as meek as is a maid," 

So fitted for the gentlest duties of domestic life — so happy in the society of women and children — so fond at 
all times of simple pleasures and innocent pastimes — so guileless and yielding — that it was difficult for those 
who knew him in the social circle to understand his energetic heroism in battle and his firm wisdom in the 
Cabinet. His rival. Sir Charles Napier, was tiuite as brave and energetic as Sir James Outram ; but then he 
was impetuous, hot-headed, and suspicious, and often unintentionally unjust. Indeed there is scarcely one 
great man in the long and brilliant list of gifted and famous Indian heroes and statesmen that had not some 
speck of human frailty with which to gratify envious and malignant criticism. But who has ever heard a whisper 
of objection against the name of Outram ! He won golden opinions from all sorts of peoi)le wherever he 
went. His noble and brilliant career is familiar to us all as " household words." His truly chivalrous and 
magnanimous self-denial which he exhibited towards Havelock when he was entitled to suiiersede him in his 
military command is ever present to his admirers. " To you," he said to Havelock, •' shall be left the glory of 
relieving Lucknow, for which you have already so nobly struggled." Sir James Outram then took the place of 
a mere volunteer by the side of Havelock. Nothing finer than this is recorded of Sir Philip Sydney, whose 
life was poetry put into action. The noble Outram, who served when he might have commanded, with all his 
modesty could not but know that he was peculiarly qualified for the work he so generously abnegated, for no 
man was better acquainted with Lucknow and the surrounding country, and no man was more thoroughly 
possessed of the confidence of the troops which he might so surely have led to glory. Quiet in his manner, 
a'nd with a kind word for every one, this true hero was justly described by an officer who had fought by his side 
as " one whom the hottest and deadliest fire, the gravest responsibility, or the most perilous and critical 
juncture, could neither e.xcite nor flurry." 

Looking back upon the career of this gallant 'Soldier, and honourable gentleman, it is impossible to 
suppress a feeling of honest pride that Derbyshire should have owned him as her son. But his reputation is his 
country's — nay, the world's. He is gone — 

" He set in the noon of his fame, 
lie fell in the hour of his pride ; 
But myriads shall hallow his name, 
And tell how the hero hath died." 

He was buried in Westminster Abbey, in the presence of a large body of warriors, statesmen, and personal 
friends. The following is the Times' account of the mournful ceremonial : — 

" The procession, simple in all that concerns State ceremonials, but with something more than the charjctcristics of a 
private funeral, left the late residence of the General, where he lived but for a short time before his fatal illness forced him to 
(JO abroad, at eleven o'clock, and passed from Qucen's-gate Gardens down Cromwell-road, Knightsbridge, Piccadilly, St. Jamcs's- 
street, I'all-mall, Whitehall, Parliament-street, to the West Cloister. A few carriages, with mules, plumes, and pages, containing 
mourners and special friends, were followed by the long cortege of private carriages which represented in a small degree the wide 
area over which the influence of Sir James Oulram's courage and kindness extended. At the Cathedral doors the crowd was 
dense and respectful. There the procession was received by the Venerable the Dean, by Canons Wordsworth, Jennings, 
Cureton, Ncpean, the Rev. Precentor lladcn, and the dignitaries of the Abbey. The cofTm was taken up on the shoulders of 
men who had stood beside their Chief in his march to Lucknow and in the weary vigils of Alumb.igh, and well did the 
bronzed faces and medals, the scarlet coats and plumed bonnets of the Mackenzie Highlanders become that sacred place when 



need was to do honour to an old soldier. The medals of Lucknow and the bars of the Relief and Siege crossing the streaked 
riband of red and white on their breasts guaranteed their fitness for the office. There were twelve sergeants and non-commissioned 
officers, and a piper of Her Majesty's 7Sth, who had come with Colonel Lockhart, C.B., Captain Broome, and Quartermaster 
Skrive, to offer the last ser\'ices they could to him for whom they would have laid down their lives, as often they had at his 
orders exposed them to every chance of battle. 

Through the sacred portal passed nodding plume, and heaving shoidder and martial figure, and all that could die of him 
whom so many had assembled to honour. The moumere followed the coffin — first, the only son of the deceased, now Sir 
Francis Outram ; then the other mourners and the noblemen and gentlemen specially invited. As the procession entered the 
choir, they who had been assembled in the Jerusalem Cliamber were marshalled two and two and marched through the cloisters 
into the Nave, where they met the procession and fell in with it, advancing in due order to the choir, where seats were 
reserved for all the invited. The body of the Nave was filled with people, and high above their heads peered down the 
Westminster boys, who, fresh from the form where Warren Hastings sat, should not forget that in the land where Outram 
won his fame there is yet a great career for good and brave kindly natures. The bright faces of these English youths would 
have touched him to the heart, for he was peculiarly susceptible of ingenuous homage, and there were in the train following his 
coffin some who, as they saw those young eyes and eager glances fi.\ed on the procession, haply remembered the day when, in 
the heat and fire of Lucknow, he dismounted from his horse to protect a poor native lad whose parents had been slain, and 
who sat weeping by the roadside. From the organ stole grandly out the solemn declaration in which the Christian Church 
speaks of the faith of the dead and proclaims the doctrine of his salvation — ' I am the Resurrection and the Life.' The pauses 
were filled by the measured tramp of feet — the feet of the warrior, statesman, and civilian, who are gliding fast to the world of 
history themselves ; and then came the declaration of their hope when all is over, and that crowning time has come to which 
warrior, statesman, and civilian must do reverence — ' I know that my Redeemer liveth.' So, -with solemn chant and organ peal, 
the Highlanders bear the body to the choir-gate, and it rests for a time while a procession, filing into the choir, resolves itself 
into lines of grave, sombre faces. Croft's rendering of the finest expression of our human helplessness and poverty, ' We brought 
nothing into this world,' had barely fainted away in the remotest aisles, when the 90th Psalm was heard, as Purcell alone could 
interpret it, in all its grandeur and comprehensiveness of our mortal state and temporary glories. The Dean of Westminster, while 
the coffin rested under the organ loft, read the funeral service in a manner worthy of the purest, simplest, and grandest ritual 
known to Christian Churche#; and when the burning words of the great Apostle had passed away, the Highlanders reverently 
took up their burden once more, and the procession, issuing out of the choir, followed the coffin to the space in the centre of which, 
carved out in the honoured earth, was the last resting-place of James Outram. It was with the softest, tenderest music that the 
body of the soldier was lowered to the grave. The service was most impressively and beautifully given. When the formulary 
' Ashes to ashes, dust to dust,' was executed, one stout Highlander, who had doubtless faced death for many a weary night and 
cheerless day in the Alumbagh, wiped with his cuff the tears that still flowed down his cheek. A bright gleam of sunshine, 
which could not but speak of hopes beyond that yawning chasm, shone more brightly out as the Choir sang ' I heard a voice 
from Heaven.' And then to the vast, massive roll of the 'Dead March' in Saul, in which Handel seems to have embodied 
human sorrow and grief, the gathering round the grave was slowly dissolved, and James Outram was left, not alone in his glory, 
but in the midst of all that England can give to make the death of her servants peace." 

A Statue to the memory of Sir James Outram has been completed, but there having been some difficulty 
in obtaining a proper site in London, an eflbrt was made to have it transferred to Derby, where it would 
have been both appropriate and ornamental. It has, however, ultimately been decided that the most 
conspicuous site for the statue will be on the Thames Embankment, when that splendid undertaking shall 
be finished. But whenever placed, or wherever, there is" no man or woman in England who will say that 
it is undeseri-ed or idly won. 



DlSBORST: — ' 

Imprimis spent at making the old Churchwardings accounts ... 
Pd. the Ringers for fore days Ringing - - . - . 

Pd. for making a Tarrar -----.. 

Pd. Ringers at the proclamation of King George - . . . 

Pd. for faching wine at 3 times --..... 

Pd. for Bred and Wine ....... 

Pd. at the Coronation of King Georg ----.. 

Pd. for glazing at tn'ise ---..-.. 

Pd. for bell ropes los. pd. for a box and 2 gall bottels los. 

Pd. for 3 Ravens is. pd. for Ellis Ashton ..... 

Pd. John Mellor for Liming ....... 

Pd. Robert Hall for mending steels 2S., and 9 lb. of lead gd. 

Pd. for cloth and fring for the Communion Table & Chushon 

Pd. Ringers for the thanksgiving for King Georges acss to the Crown 

Pd. William Marshall 4s., Nickless Bradbury bill 6s. lod., a wisket zd. 

Pd. for dying and clensing the old fring ..... 

Pd. for making Ellis Ashton cloth ...... 

Pd. at chusing the new churchwardings - . _ - 

Pd. Parritar for bringing 5 Books about the altring of Prars 

Pd. for wasing the serplis ....... 

Pd. for fFees and expenses at visitations ..... 

Pd. for one Load of Lime and besoms .--... 

Pd. Clark for Ringing Corfor and Registering the accounts* 

Pd. William Greaves bill ....... 

Pd. for oil for the clock from Sheffield ...... 

14 14 3i 
The following are some of the most interesting items in other succeeding Churchwardens' accounts for the 
same place : — 

1722. Paid to the Sluggerd waker ...... 

,, for killing two Doge foxes ..--.. 
1730. Pd. for killing a Bich ffox ...... 

1732. Pd. for three fox cubs ....... 

1745. Pd. to ye ringers at ye flight of ye Rebels - - - - - 

1749. Pd. at the Rush Cart for ale t ...... 

„ Pd. for an iron Rotl to hang ye singers garland in J 

1750. Pd. to Ringers on the 29th May - - - - - 

„ Do. on the 5th November ..... 

Oct. 6th. Paid Ringers for Nelson's Victory, Rejoicing .... 












































































♦ The Curfew Bell is still rung .il Castlcton at 8 o'clock in the evening from the 291!) Sept. to Shrove Tucsil.iy. 
+ Ru.shcs were laid on the floor of the Church, which was unpaved, and as late as the year 1S20 straw used for the s.anic 

X This old custom still remains ; the singers make a garland on the iglli May, and place it on one of the pinnacles of the 
Tower, where its relics remain until the same day of the succeeding year. 


HE following inscriptions have been copied from the Bells in the tower at Bakewell. The Bells were 
cast by Thomas Mears, of London, in 1796, and hung by Edward Simmons, his agent, in 1797. 
Richard Chapman, A.B., Vicar; Matthew Strult and George Heathcote, Churchwardens:— 

Weight of each bell. 
First Bell. Cwt. qr. lb. 

When I begin our merry din 5 3 3 

This band I lead, from discord free, 
And for the fame of human name, 

May every leader copy me. 

Second Bell. 

Mankind, like us, too oft are found, 5 3 16 

Possessed of nought but empty sound. 

Third Bell. 

When of departed hours we toll the knell, 626 

Instruction take and spend the future well. 

Fourth Bell. 

When men in Hymen's bands unite, 7 i 27 

Our merry peals produce delight ; 

But when death goes his dreary rounds. 

We send forth sad and solemn sounds. 

Fifth Bell. 

Thro' grandsires and tripples with pleasure men range, 8 222 
Till death calls the bob, and brings on the last change. 

Sixth Bell. 

When victory crowns the public weal, 10 3 15 

With glee we give* the merry peal. 

Seventh Bell. 

Would men, like me, join, and agree, 12 3 11 

They'd live in tuneful harmony. 

Eighth Bell. 

Possessed of deep sonorous tone, 18 2 1 

This belfry King sits on his throne ; 

And when the merry bells go round. 

Adds to, and mellows every sound. 

So is a just and wellpois'd state, 

Where all degrees possess due weight ; 

One greater power — one greater tone, 

Is ceded to improve their own. 

Total weight of the eight Bells - - 76 217 

The above inscriptions were composed by Mr. Michael Williams, a local poet then residing in 



> o ■» o » — 



ATURE is no respecter of persons ; she bestows her gifts where she lists, and when desirous of 
creating an aristocracy — the word we use in its best sense — she seeks not generally among the 
ranks of those to whom society has assigned conventional superiority, but finds favourites among 
the sons of farmers, barbers, mechanics, and people of similar degree. From whence else have sprung 
the brightest names in the respective walks of Agriculture, Architecture, Anatomy, Chemistry, History, 
Law, Mechanics, Medicine, Painting, Poetr}-, Sculpture, and civic dignities ? Is not the light of their 
fame, and of others like them, reflected upon the middle and working classes from whence they sprung, 
elevating them into the truest perceptions of greatness and honour ? The upward struggles of such men 
from the chaos of society into light and fame is one of the guarantees to a hopeful heart that, despite of 
much that is benumbing and stifling in this world, he is yet the possessor of energies which promise to 
surmount these influences, and achieve a position at once useful and eminent. Gladly, therefore, do we 
welcome every addition to the list of such men. However far apart from each other in the measure of their 
endowments, we greet and rejoice in them all. 

The name placed at the head of this notice is one of those who have risen from a humble position, and 
a severe struggle with limited means and their attendant difliculties, to the occupancy of an honourable position 
in one of our distant Colonies. Mr. AVragge is the son of George and Maria Wragge, now residing at 
Chaddesden, near Derby. He was born on the twentieth of January, 1S25, at Alton Hall, near Wirksworth, 
where his grandfather was then living. He is the eldest of si-v sons, and received his education at Mr. 
Goodacre's Academy, Standard Hill, Nottingham, and at an early age w-as apprenticed to Mr. Charles 
Wilcockson, chemist and druggist, of the same town. After honourably serving his apjirenticeship, he 
remained several years in England, but not meeting with the success which his talents and industry deserved, 
he decided to try his fortune in another part of the world, and left this country for Melbourne, South Australia, 
which place he reached in November, 1852. Mr. Wragge was not a man to let the grass grow under his feet — 
he believed that 

" Work is worship ;" aye, riglit traly 
Said the monks who lived of old ; 
" Work is worship — then 'tis duty ; 
Let that scripture be retold." 

And he commenced business at once, as a chemist and druggist, in Collins Street. His persevering industr)', 
equable temper, strict truthfulness, and temperate habits, added to clearly defined ideas, quickly gained the 
esteem as well as the custom of all classes, and in April, i860, he was elected to the City Council for La 
Trobe Ward, and for which Ward Mr. \Vraggc has been re-elected, a positive proof that he is very popular 
among his constituents. He has also taken an active part in corporation and public matters for many years. 
In 1862 he was elected President of the Pharmaceutical Society of Victoria, and was fornially installed as the 
Right Worshipful Mayor of Melbourne on the 9th of November, 1864. 

Malvolio, the quaintest character in Shakespeare, lays down the grave apothegm — " Some are bom great, 
some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them." If by greatness may be signified that 
peculiar jjosition inqjorting trust, esteem, and the confidence of the most respectable i)ortion of society, then 
may we truly say that Mr. Wragge has (7^///(.7r// greatness. 

In a letter to liis Father, announcing his elevation to the Mayoralty, he says — " I enclose a Photograph of 
myself, which you had better get a Photographer in Derby to mount. It is considered a gooil likeness of your 
Son, the " Right Worshipful the Mayor of Melbourne," which oflice I assume on the 9th uf November next. 


ha\ing been elected to it unanimously on the tenth of this month (October). I trust you are all well and in 
good spirits, and as this will reach you about Christmas, I wish you the compliments of that jojful season, and 
many of them. I do not know what you will say to my being elected as Chief Magistrate of such an 
important City as this, whose corporate revenue amounts to behveen ^^70,000 and ;^8o,ooo per annum, and 
to whose Chief even the Queen has entitled to be styled the Right Worshipful. This office I have obtained 
by industry and straightforward honesty, and I think it is something even for parents to be proud of, when 
their son obtains such a position as I have done, especially as I arrived in the Colony with so small a 
capital to start ^^■ith." 

The above extract is a key to the character of the man — it exemplifies frankness and directness of 
purpose. His motto in the battle of life seems to be — 

' Honour and shame from no condition rise. 
Act well your part, and there the honour lies." 

It may be mentioned that he has not been without the usual trials and troubles incident to life, for 
Mr. Wragge has been twice married since his arrival in the Colony, his first wife dying January i8th, 
1862, and leaving a family of four children to his care. 

On the 9th of May, 1865, a pubhc dinner was given by the Mayor in the Council Chamber, which 
had been prepared for the purpose. His Excellency, Sir Charles Darling, was present, and among the 
other prominent guests were Major-General Chute, Sir Redmond Barry, the Hon. Matthew Harvey, Lieut. - 
Colonel Smith, R.A., the Colonel Commandant of Volunteers, the Hons. W. HuU and T. H. Fellows, Dr. 
BrowTiless, Vice-Chancellor of the University, several officers of the Royal Artillery, and the Consuls of 
several countries. The Mayor presided, and Aldermen Smith and Eades officiated as croupiers. A very 
recherche repast concluded, and the cloth withdrawn, the usual loyal toasts were proposed and done full 
honour to. His Excellency remarked, in reply to the toast of his health, that the Mayor was that night 
acting in conformity with the practice of the corporations of the Mother Country, in taking the opportunity 
of entertaining the representatives of the Cro^vn, and those of the defenders of the Crown. He would propose 
" Prosperity to the City of Melbourne," and would also couple with the toast the name of their host — " The 
Mayor of Melbourne." The Chairman returned thanks, and, after numerous other toasts, the company 

What is the lesson taught by this brief sketch of Mr. Wragge 1 This. The assurance that he has not 
attained to wealth and honour by dint of rank or scholastic attainment, out of the reach of many, but by 
homely virtues within the reach of all. 





" I have heard of the lady, and good words went with her name." — SHAKESPEARE. 

" O Woman ! though thy fragile form 
Bows, like the willow, to the storm ; 
Yet, if the power of grace divine 
Find in thy lowly heart a shrine, 
Then, in thy very weakness, strong. 
Thou wind'st thy noiseless path along. 
Weaving thine influence with the ties 
Of sweet domestic charities. 
And soft'niiig haughtier spirits down, 
I5y happy contact with thine own." 

|LL the world has become fiimiliar with the name of Florence Nightingale. We have before us 
the grateful of briefly sketching her career, and stating the sen-ices she has rendered to her 
sick and wounded countr)'men. 

Miss Nightingale was born at Florence, in the year 1820, and is the daughter of an ancient and 
honourable house, her father, William Shore Nightingale, being the possessor by inheritance of ample 
estates in Derbyshire and Hampshire. She is coheiress with her sister Lady Verney, of Claydon Hall, 
Bucks., of the family estates. Endowed thus by the accident of birth with high jjosition and competent 
fortune, she was also; endowed by nature with a generous disposition, a kind heart, and ver>- superior 
talents. Miss Nightingale, indeed, is one of the most superior and accomplished women of the time.' 
Her knowledge of the ancient languages, the higher mathematics, science, literature, and art, would be 
deemed extraordinary in any country. After reaching maturity, she enjoyed a protracted foreign tour, 
residing for a time in eacli of the leading countries of Europe, and extending her travels to the lands of 
the Orient. She ascended the Nile as flir as its remotest cataract. Having a remarkable aptitude for 
the aciiuircment of languages, she returned home considerably versed in the languages of all the countries 
she had visited, but speaking French, German, and Italian, witii the fluency of natives. 

Her travels were not merely excursions for pleasure. She had a yearning affection for her kin^l, a 
sympathy with the weak, the ojjpressed, the destitute, and the desolate. The schools and the poor around 
Lea Hurst, have seen and felt her as a visitor, teacher, consoler and expounder. She has frequented and 
studied the schools, hospitals, and reformatory institutions of London, Edinburgh, and the Continent. She 
acted as nurse for three or four months within the walls of a German hospital for the care of the lost 
and infirm. There she accumulated experience in all the duties and labours of female ministration. She 
then returned to be once more the delight of her own hajipy home. Hut the strong tendency of her mind 
to look beyond its own circle for the relief of who nominally having all, ])raclically have but too 
frequently none to help them, prevailed ; and therefore, when the hospital established in London for sick 
governesses was about to fail for want of proper management, she stepped forwaril and consentctl to be 
placed at its head. The lovely scenery of her Derbyshire home was exchanged for the narrow, dreary 
establishment in Harley Street, to which she devoted all her time and fortune. While her friends niisscil 
her at assemblies, lectures, concerts, exhibitions, and all the entertainments of taste and intellect with 
which London in its season abounds, she, whose powers could have best appreciated these, was sitting 
beside the bed and soothing the last complaints of some poor dying, homeless, querulous This 
querulousness of sick governesses is too frequently fomented, if not created, by the hard, unreflecting 
folly which regards fellow-creatures entrusted with forming the minds and dispositions of children as 
ingenious disagreeable machines, needing, like the steam engine, sustenance and covering, but, like it, 




quite beyond or beneath all sympathy, passions, or aftections. Miss Nightingale thought othenvise, 
and found pleasure in tending those poor destitute governesses in their infirmities, their sorrows, their 
deaths, or their recoveries. 

With Burns, the poet, she well knew the truth of these words — 

" But, Oh, what crowds in every land, 
Are wretched and forlorn ! 
Thro' weary life this lesson learn, 
That man was made to mourn." 

She was seldom seen out of the walls of the institution, and the few friends she admitted found her in 
the midst of nurses, letters, prescriptions, and accounts. Her health sank under the heavy pressure, but 
a little of her native air restored her, and the failing institution was saved. 

Soon a wail of agony arose from the plains of the Crimea. Late in the year 1S54, the British 
Expedition landed near Sebastopol. A more costly or a worse organized expedition never set foot on an 
enemy's soil. There were no proper means of transport — there were no tents issued for a month after 
landing — there were no means of moving the sick — the ambulances had been actually left behind, and 
those who fell exhausted were left to die by the roadside. The soldiers exposed to oppressive heats 
during the day, were subject also to the cold and heavy dews at night. The results were inevitable. 
Cholera, dysenter)-, and diarrhoea spread through the ranks, and the dead were scattered about in all 

In one month after landing the wounded and sick were to be counted by thousands, and the medical 
staflf proved to be boA inefficient and incapable. Vast hospitals were formed at Scutari, Balaklava, 
Constantinople, &c. ; but owing to want of arrangement, and attention, the sufferings of the patients were, 
to use the language of Lord Russell, " horrible and heartrending.'' Hundreds became idiotic from 
barbarous treatment ; whole hecatombs died from mal-treatment, and the soldiers who had nobly shed their 
blood for their country, were allowed to perish from neglect ! 

It was then that Miss Nightingale took the resolution which has made her name famous. She 
organized a band of English nurses, and undeterred by her fragile frame, her delicate constitution, 
weakened already by excessive toil in behalf of the suffering in England, obedient only to the generous 
impulses of her heart, she sailed for the scene of agony. 

Arrived in the Crimea, Miss Nightingale, and the ladies who accompanied her, proceeded at once to 
the performance of the task they had undertaken. The mere presence of Englishwomen in the hospitals 
was found to be a source of indescribable consolation to the men. As Miss Nightingale walked down the 
long corridors, the poor fellows, as they lay upon their narrow beds, followed her with their eyes, and 
said that the sight of an English lady did them more good than physic. At first the ladies had obstacles 
thrown in their way by the devotees of routine, who would prefer to see men die in " the regular way," 
than saved by the introduction of novel methods. But the calm perseverance of Miss Nightingale, enforced 
by the voice of all England, which had shouted God speed to her mission, overcame every hindrance, 
and she was allowed to do her own work in her own way. She established refectories, where such articles 
as broth, toast, tea, chocolate, gruel, Sec, were prepared on a scale sufficient for thousands. She arranged 
apothecary depots, from which medicines, wines, spirits, and cordials, could be dispensed at any hour, day 
or night. She caused greater attention to be paid to cleanliness and ventilation; she also distributed 
books, papers, and in every way cheered and enlivened the men under her care. 

" Beside the beds where parting life was laid, 
And sorrow, guilt, and pains, by turns dismay'd. 
This English Lady stood. At her control. 
Despair and anguish fled the struggling soul ; 
Comfort came down the trembling wTetch to raise. 
And his last faltering accents whisper'd praise." 

To prove, if proof were needed, that no eulogy of Miss Nightingale's heroism and senices can be 
exaggerated, we cannot do better than give an extract from a letter that appeared in the Times of that 


period, from a gentleman sent out to superintend the expenditure of the Times' Fund, subscribed in 
England for the relief of hospital patients. 

" Wherever there is disease in ils most dangerous form, and the hand of the spoiler distressingly nigh, there is that 
iiuomparabU woman sure to be seen : her benignant presence is an influence for good comfort even amid the struggles of 
expiring nature. She is a "ministering angel," without any exaggeration, in these hospitals, and as her slender form glides 
quietly along each corridor, every poor fellow's face softens with gratitude at the sight of her. When all the medical officers 
have retired for the night, and silence and darkness have settled down upon those miles of prostrate sick, she may be obser\'ed, 
lamp in hand, making her solitary rounds," 

Surely we are then justified in saying of her — 

" Howe'er it be, it seems to me 
'Tis noble to be good ; 
Kind hearts are more than coronets, 
And simple faith than Norman blood." 

How heroically this true woman, accomplished and refined, acquitted herself amid all the horrors and 
dangers of these hospitals, the world partly knows, and history has recorded in every language of 
civilization, and will continue to be chronicled in many a future storj'. She has fulfilled a high, pure and 
holy mission, while her example has had a highly moral, beneficial, and salutary effect on our social 

When the period of Miss Nightingale's return to England had arrived, it was resolved that an acceptable 
testimonial of public gratitude should be offered to her on her arrival, in the shape of a fund for the 
foundation of a new Hospital, to be worked on her own principle of unpaid labour. Since her return to 
this country, in spite of severe illness, which has condemned her to a life of comparative seclusion, she 
has found time to write a ver)' valuable little book, " Notes on Nursing," which has had an extensive 
circulation, and to bring out an expensive quarto, " Notes on Hospitals," enlarged from a paper drawn 
up by her, and laid before the Social Science Association. Towards the close of the year 1855, Her 
Majesty presented to Miss Nightingale a diamond ornament, adapted to be worn as a decoration of the 
most costly and elegant description. This testimony of the Queen's approval was accompanied by an 
autograph of the most cordial and grateful character. 

Florence Nightingale is, we believe, now residing in the neighbourhood of London, and is, we regret 
to learn, still in a delicate state of health. 

, She has not visited Derbyshire, nor her pleasant home at Lea Hurst, for some years, to the great 
regret of many, to whom even a knowledge of her presence amongst us would shed a halo of pleasure, 
and give an additional lustre to the exquisitely diversified scenery of our native County. 

But wherever she resides, that her life may long be spared to us, is the fervent, honest prayer of a 
nation, to whose sons she has given solace in the hour of need, and upon whose daughters she has 
conferred the boon of an imperishable example. 



BURING the war with France, the town of Ashborne, in Derbyshire, was the most lively and interesting 
in England, partly in consequence of the French prisoners being confined there, and from the con- 
tinual passing of the soldiers through the town on their way to the different seaports. 
About the year 1804, there were more than two hundred prisoners, all officers, in the town upon their 
parole of honour, amongst them were three of Napoleon's generals, Boyer, General Pajeau, who was taken 
at St. Domingo, and Roussambeau, who, with their retinue, spent thirty thousand pounds annually in the 
town. General Roussambeau, (the person who under the orders of Napoleon, poisoned the men at Java,) 
was a very stout man with a noble looking countenance ; he wore the French uniform of the sharpshooters, 
a jacket fastened, behind with a large gold buckle, and trowsers fitted close to his body of dark green cloth, 
with Hessian boots ; three brilliant stars in his cap, with a large plume of black feathers, which altogether 
presented a striking appearance, and not easily to be forgotten. He was about sixty years of age, and could 
not speak one word of English, and amongst his servants there were people of all nations. 

According to the rules of government, on which the French prisoners were allowed their parole of 
honour, they were restricted from going more than a mile beyond the town, and that on the public highway ; 
and to return into the town by nine o'clock at night, at which time a bell rung. If any were found after that 
hour out of their lodgings, they were subjected to a fine of a guinea, to be paid to the informer, upon com- 
plaint before a magistrate. Not much to the credit of the townspeople, some of them took the meanest 
advantage of this regulation ; and the volunteers, a set of drunken young fellows, laid in wait for the officers 
to watch if they broke the rules, and then informed against them, by which means they obtained the fine, 
which was rigorously enforced. But the officers being very liberal with their money, receiving their full pay 
from Napoleon, and an allowance from our government, and being mostly men of property, cared very little 
about the fine, which they always paid. 

In consequence of Lord Macartney, when he was a prisoner in France, receiving some kind attentions 
from General Boyer, he obtained leave from the Transport Board for the General to accompany him on a tour 
through England, upon condition to restore him back, and the general accordingly accepted his invitation 
to that effect. While they were on this tour, Roussambeau (who was still at Ashborne) kept up a correspon- 
dence with Boyer, who was liis friend, and when he learned that he was on his return, and staying for a few 
days at Matlock Bath, about ten miles from Ashborne, for the purpose of viewing the magnificent scenery 
about that delightful spot, he, zoitlwut leave, set out to Matlock, to meet him. 

One day, while he was there, walking by himself on the Parade, near the New Bath, he was met by a 
party of gentlemen, one of whom knew him. Tlie gentleman addressed him in French, and observed, good- 
humouredly, he was rather out of his limits there. To this Roussambeau made no reply, — he Avas a very 
proud man, and entertained the greatest contempt for the English. On his return to the inn, he made 
enquiries who the person wasthat had accosted him ; and learned that he was on a visit to Mr. Arkwright, 
the great cotton manufacturer, who lived at Cromford, about half-a-mile from Alatlock. The General imme- 
diately sent hi:n a note, with a guinea enclosed, saying, he supposed that was his object, being what the 

Ashborne blackguards' received for informing against him. The gentleman, Mr. feeling naturally 

indignant at this insult, returned the guinea, and instantly wTOte to the Transport Board, in London, informing 
them of the General's irregularity, in consequence of which, an order was sent down in a few days for his 
removal to Norman Cross Prison, in Huntingdonshire, to close confinement ; from whence, however, he 
shortly afterwards contrived to make his escape into France. 


SIGH for ihe land where the orange-tree flingeth 
Its prodigal bloom on the myTtle below ; 

Where the moonlight is warm, and the gondolier singeth, 
And clear waters take up the strain as they go. 

Oh : fond is the longing, and rapt is the vision, 

That stirs up my soul over Italy's tales ; 
But the present was bright as the far-off Elysian, 

When I roved in the sun-flood through Derbyshire Dales. 

There was joy for my eye, there was balm for my breathing ; 

Green branches above me— blue streams at my side : 
The hand of Creation seemed proudly bequeathing 

The beauty reserved for a festival tide. 

I was bound like a child, by some magical story ; 

Forgetting the " South " and " Ionian Vales ; " 
And felt that dear England had temples of glory, 

^\^lere any might worship, in Derbyshire Dales. 
Sweet pass of the " Dove ! " 'mid rock, river, and dingle, 

How great is thy charm for the wanderer's breast ! 
With thy moss-girdled towers and foam-jewell'd shingle, 

Thy mountains of mi<,'ht, and thy valleys of rest. 

I gazed on thy wonders— lone, silent, adoring ; ^^ 

I bent at the altar whose " fire never pales : " 
The Great Father was with me— Devotion was pouring 

Its holiest praises in Derbyshire Dales. 
Wild glen of dark " Taddington "— rich in thy robing 

Of forest-green cloak, with gray lacing bedight ; 
How I lingered to watch the red Western rays probmg 

Thy leaf-mantled bosom with lances of light ! 

And " Monsal," thou mine of Arcadian treasure. 

Need we seek for "Greek Islands" and spice-laden gales, 
■While a Temple like thee, of enchantment and pleasure, 

May be found in cur own native Derbyshire Dales? 
There is much in my Past, bearing waymarks of flowers, 

The purest and rarest in odour and bloom ; 
There are beings, and breathings, and places, and hours, 

Still trailing in roses o'er Memory's tomb. 
And when I shall count of the bliss that's departed, 

And Old Age be telling its garrulous tales ; 
Those days will be first when the kind and true-hearted 

Were nursing my spirit in Derbyshire Dales. 

Eliza Cook. 



" Know most of the rooms of thy native country before thou goest over ^ 
the threshold thereof, especially seeing England presents thee with so 
many ohervaMcs.^'' — Fuller. 

|E have often deplored the indifference with which many of our ancestral seats are regarded, while 
thousands boast of a knowledge of less interesting places on the Rhine, the Tagus, or the Seine. 
The topographic stores of Britain should be, in the words of Fuller, the Jirst objects of a Briton's 

regard, and no subject surely can be more tasteful and interesting, and no ingenious youth can read such with- 
out interest in itself, or lay it aside without Historical instruction. The subject awakens every association which 
belongs to the o/cfcn times ; it is interwoven with the dimness of the Saxon era, the splendour of the Norman 
chivalry ; the alarms of feudal combats ; and the festive but perilous encounter of the joust and tournament. 
How often do monumental effigies, the grinning faces on old buildings, the cross-legged figures in the aisles of 
our cathedrals, recall the memory of heroic enthusiasm, mistaken piety, romantic crusade, deadly conflict ; in 
fact, how often do they tell of suffering, danger, sacrifice and endurance ! 

Some old writer said that a visit to any ancient Baronial Hall, invariably added to his knowledge in the 
data for costume ; it afforded him a simple, clear, and most conclusive elucidation of numbers of passages in 
our dramatic poets, and in those of Greece and Rome ; also that such a visit threw a flood of light upon the 
manners, usages, and sports of Saxon and Norman ; and lastly, that it removed a vast number of idle traditions 
and ingenious fables which are often transmitted from generation to generation for hundreds of years. 

We plead guilty to a somewhat similar idea of a visit to one of our ancient seats or castles ; we can 
stand in the court-yard, or upon a battlement, and in memory's^ eye see haughty nobles and impetuous 
knights — We are present at their arming, assist them to their shields — enter the appointed lists with them, 
and partake their hopes, fears, perils, honours, and successes. Then we are presented to the glorious damsels, 
all superb and lovely, " in velours and clothe of golde and daintie devyces, both in pearles and emerawds, 
sawphyres, and dymondes" — We also see the banquets, with the serving-men and bucklers, servitors and 
trenchers, and shields of brawn, and goodly dolphins, and barbecued boars, and spiced wines — Kings and 
queens under gorgeous canopies of state — Lords and ladies footing it to high carantos ; pageants, high as the 
massive roofings of the royal halls, suddenly and slowly wheeled in with all the cumbersome and motley pride 
of rude magnificence. These, and many like day-dreams are inspired by an inspection of such venerable 
spots as those which form the subject of the present sketch. 

The venerable ruin of Wingfield Manor House is a conspicuous object standing upon a steep emi- 
nence. Its high and pointed gables, lofty towers, buttress chimneys, projecting turrets, fretted stonework, 
and weather-beaten walls, slowly crumbling beneath the hand of Time, with the ivy clasping their cold stones, 
with its green arms, like a fair young bride embracing grisly death ! furnish a mine of thought and visions 
of by-gone days, of " battles, sieges, fortunes passed." How many generations have looked upon this old 
mansion, which 

" Tim? has seen, that lifts the low, 
And level lays the lofty brow ; 
Has seen this broken pile complete, 
Big with the vanity of state ! " 

Thousands of eyes have viewed this old pile, which are now dissolved in dust ; and thousands more 
will again look upon it and be swept away, and yet still the old ruin stands ! What a commentary upon 
human vanity and pretensions ! 

" The name of Wingfield is a common enough one in England, and is supposed to be derived from 
Win or Whin, the ancient word for furze or gorse ; a plant common to Derbyshire, Yorkshire, and other 


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northern counties. It i.s supposed that the name of the Manor-House was derived from the fact that it 
was built on a gorse or furze hill, and much of that plant may still be found in the neighbourhood. 

Another supposed derivation is from the word Guiii, which in the British signifies water, and that the 
Norman clerk who made the minutes from which Domesday-Book was transcribed, writing from the ear, 
wrote it Win, and, that therefore the etymon may be C7«/V/-ficld, or Water-field \ This conjecture is 
rendered probable by the frequent floods from the little river that runs through \Vingfield, and which 
formerly overflowed the valley so much, that Wingfield Church was often nearly a foot under water."* 

" The manor of Wingfield, or, as itwas more anciently written, Winfield, boasts considerable antiquity, and has on more 
than one occasion been the scene of important events. At a period anterior to the Domesday sur\'ey it formed, as is supposed, 
a part of the possessions of Roger dc Poictou. After the battle of Hastings, when Duke William of Normandy began to parcel 
out the newly-acquired territory with lavish liberality among his faithful followei-s, Wingfield, with certain other manors in 
Derbyshire and other counties, fell to the share of his illegitimate son, William Peverel, under whom it was he'd at the time 
of the great national survey by Robert de Heriz, of .Man, Earl of Brittany. The Peverels, however, did not long enjoy their 
territorial possessions, for within a century of tlieir being granted by the conqueror, William Peverel, the grandson of the first 
baron, having been accused of poisoning Ranulph, Earl of Chester, found it necessary, to avoid the consequences of his odious 
act, to quit the kingdom, when the whole of his extensive domains passed by forfeit to Henry II. 

The manor of Wingfield continued in the possession of the Heriz family for several generations after tlie seizure of Pevcrel's 
lands, the family having, as it would seem, become tenants-in-chief of the Crown. Subsequently, as appears by an inquisition 
taken at Chesterfield on Saturday, the feast of St. Katharine the Virgin, 3rd Edward III., the manor became the properly of 
Matilda, heiress and next of blood of (consanguiita) John de Heriz, whom Richard de la River had taken to wife. Margaret 
the eldest daughter of Richard de la River, became the wife of Roger Kellers, a person of considerable note, who served the 
office of High Sheriff of the counties of Derby and Nottingham in the reign of Edward III., and by him had a daughter, also 
named Margaret, who married Robert de Swyllington, Knight, and had given unto her during the lifetime of her father the 
manor of Wingfield, with other lands that were of her mother's inheritance, with remainder to her heirs. There being no 
surviving issue of this marriage, it was found by an inquisition taken at Derby on the 25th October, 8th Hcniy VI., that the 
property belonged to Ralph, Lord Cromwell of Tateshall, descended from the Bellers family, and cousin of Margaret wife of 
Robert de Swyllington. The award, however, was not allowed to remain unchallenged, for about the 19th year of the same 
reign a suit was instituted by Henry Pierj^ont, Knight, who claimed as heir of the inheritance of Margaret Gra, descended from 
the family of Heriz ; the result was a compromise, by which certain manors were vested in the family of Pierpont, and the 
manor of Wingfield assured to the Lord Cromwell. 

Ralph Lord Cromwell, descended from a family of great antiquity, was summoned to parliament as one of the barons of 
the realm in 4th Henry IV., he being then only twenty-three years old ; in the following reign he attained to considerable power 
and influence, and was appointed to several offices of honour and emolument, enjoying, as it would seem, in an extraordinary 
degree, the confidence and favour of tlie king. In nth Henry VI. he had granted to him the office of Tre.Tsurer of the 
Exchequer, and three years afterwards he was retained to serve the King in the relief of Calais with one knight, 12 men at 
arms, and 175 archers. In the same year he was made master of the King's hounds and falcons with the wages and fees 
belonging thereto, and subsequently had conferred ujion him for his services a grant of £40 to be received annually durin" the 
royal pleasure out of the manor of Whasshynbyrgh, then in the King's hands. (5n the first of Fel)ruar)', 23 Henry VI, he 
had granted to him and his heirs, for the services he performed to the King, the ofiices of constable of the Kin"'s Castle 
of Nottingham, and steward and keeper of the Forest of Sherwood, the parks of Beschewode and Clypston, and the woods of 
Bellow-Birkeland, Rumwodc, Ouselande, and Fullwood, in Nottinghamshire. The building of the present manor-house of 
Wingfield was commenced by this Lord Cromwell on the site of a more ancient structure, and completed by John, Second 
Earl of Shrewsbury, to whom he had sold the reversionary interest in the manor. 

South Wingfield continued in the possession of the noble house of Shrewsbury until the death of t'liibert, the Seventh 
Earl, in 1616, when the inheritance was <livided amongst his three daughters and coheiresses, the eldest of whom, Mary, was 
married to William Herbert, Third Earl of Pembroke, who died in 1630 without surviving issue, when her portion of the estate 
reverted to Sir William Saville, Bart., father of the First Marquis of Halifax, and grandson of Mary Talbot, daughter of tieorge. 
Sixth Earl of Shrewsbury by his first wife, Gertrude, daughter of Manners, First Earl of Rutland. Eiiz.-ibcth the 
second daughter, became the wife of Henry Grey, Earl of Kent, and she also dying issueless, her moiety passed I0 her uncle, 
the Eighth Earl of Shrewsbury, whose descendants retained po.ssession of the same until 1709, when Charles, Twelfth Earl of 
Shrewsbury, by an indenture of lease and re-lease, conveyed five-sixth parts of his portion of the manor and estate to Thomas 
Leacroft, of Wirksworth, the remaining one-sixth part being sold about the same time to Wingfield llalton, Esq. Alalhca, the 
youngest of the three daughters of Gilbert Earl of Shrewsbury, who claimed, by inheritance, the third portion of the manor of 
South Wingfield, married Thomas, Earl of Arundel, grandson of Thomas, Duke of Norfolk, who was beheaded in 1572, and 

• Blorc's History of Wingfield Manor. 


her grandson, Henry, Duke of Norfolk, conveyed this moiety to his auditor, Imanuel Halton, Gentleman, son of Miles Halton, 
sheriff of Cumberland, in 1652, and the ancestor of the present o\™er of Wingfield. 

Wint^eld Manor House derives an especial interest from the circumstance that it was for several years the place of captivity 
of the ill-fated Mary, Queen of Scots — a captivity which must have been almost as irksome to the Earl of Shrewsbur>'. in whose 
custody she was placed, as to the Queen herself. The suite of rooms which are believed to have been appropriated to her use 
are stil! pointed out ; they occupy the west side of the north court, and communicate with the great tower, from whence, 
tradition says, she had sometimes an opportunity of watching the approach of the friends with whom She was in secret 
correspondence. Her residence here extended over a period of several years ; but during that time she was an occasional visitor 
at Hardwieke and Chatsworth, two • other mansions of the Earl of Shrewsbur)-, and also at Buxton, then celebrated for tlie 
medicinal properties of its thermal springs. 

Whatever may have been the motive which induced the Earl to accept the charge of the captive Queen, certain it is that 
he was soon desirous of being relieved of the responsibility, but as it was difficult to find another nobleman equally faithful to 
supply his place, he was compelled by the Queen's authority to retain his trust, to the ruin of his peace and the serious injury 
of his fortune. * 

Possessing a high sensibility and a noble and generous noture, it was the misfortune of the Eatl to be united to a lady 
who, though reputed to be the handsomest woman of her day, was, perhaps, the veriest shrew in Christendom. Elizabeth, 
Countess of Shrewsbur}-, — better known as Bess of Hardwieke- who had been thrice married before she became the wife of 
George Talbot, was a woman of a proud, arrogant, and imperious demeanour, mercenary and sordid in her disposition, cold, 
selfish, and unfeeling, without one redeeming quality of womanly tenderness or honourable integrity. She could not exist without 
some political intrigue ; and, when not engaged with her scheming speculations, she employed her talents in confederating 
alternately with Elizabeth and Mar)', always to the prejudice and terror of her husband, whose existence was often embittered, 
and his feelings wounded, by her captious arrogance and pretended jealousy. 

It was in the month of May, 1569, that Mary was removed to Wingfield from Tutbury Castle, where she had resided since 
January, of the preceding year — nominally a free princess, but in reality a prisoner of state. The first years of her confinement 
were accompanied by some circumstances of mitigation, and the irksomeness of her captivity was softened by agreeable society, 
and the conversation of such persons of rank as visited her entertainers ; but the increasing jealousy of Elizabeth and her 
ministers caused everj- movement of the illustrious captive to be watched with suspicion, and she was eventually excluded from 
all social intercourse : her amusements were restricted, and even out-door exercise was at times prohibited ; no other resources 
being left to her than her lute and her needle, with which latter she beguiled many weary hours of her long confinement. To 
add to her wretchedness she was subjected to all the petty indignities that her coarse-minded hostess could heap upon her ; not 
the least painful of which was the malignant aspersion cast upon her character by the countess, who, incredible as it may appear, 
affected to believe that the Queen of Scots had seduced the affections of the earl her husband. For this,, however, as we find 
from Str)-pet and the correspondence of Castlenau, she had the satisfaction of obtaining, through the agency of the French 
ambassador, an attested disavowal of the calumnious reports which the countess and her two sons had maliciously circulated 
against her. 

In the same year that ilary w.-is conveyed to Wingfield, that in which the memorable "Rising of the North" occurred, 
an attempt was made, according to Camden, by Leonard Dacres, a son of William Lord Dacres, to liberate her from the 
captirity in which she was kept and conduct her to some foreign country ; the plot, however, was discovered and the design 
consequently frustrated. A similar attempt, made by a Mr. Hall and the younger sons of the Eari of Derby, is supposed to 

• Mary's domestic establishment at this time included five gentlemen, fourteen servitors, three cooks, four boys, three gentlemen's men, six 
Sgentlewomen, two wives, and ten wenches and children. Lodge, in his " Illustrations of British Histor>-," says that the Queen's table was furnished 
with sixteen dishes to each course — the principal officers of the household had ten, and the ladies eight covers. They consumed a large quantity of 
wine, and Mary had sometimes baths of wine for pain or tumour in her side, from which she suffered ; no wonder that her guardian should at times 
have found himself embarrassed in providing for so large an addition to his household. No less than two htmdred gentlemen, yeomen, officers, and 
soldiers were employed in the custody of her person at Wingfield. 

t Sirype Annals, v. 3-,/. 232 — Rumours of Lord Shrewsburj^'s intimacy with the captive Queen would appear to have been rather widely circulated. 
In a letter written about this time (1584) by William Fletewood, the eminent lawyer and recorder of London, to Lord Treasurer Burghley, there occurs 
the following passage : — "At this sessions, one Cople and one Baldwcn, my Lord of Shrowsburie's gent, required me that they might be suffered to 
indict one Walmesley of Islyngton, an inn-holder, for scandilation of my Lord their m.aster. They shewed me two papers. The first was under the 
clerk of the counsel's hand, of my lord's purgation, in the which your good lordship's speeches are specially set downe. The second paper was the 
examination of divers witnesses taken by Mr. Harris ; the effect of all which was. that Walmesley should tell his gests openlie at the table that the Erie 
of Shrowsbur>' had gotten the Scottish Quene with child, and that he knew when the child was christened, and it was alledged that he should further 
adde, that my lord should never go home aga>-ne, with like wordes, &c. An indictement was drawne by the clerk of the peace, the which I thought 
not good to have published, or, (ere ?) that the evidence should be given openlie, and thcre.'^ore I caused the jurie to go to a chamber, where I was, 
and heard the evidence given, amongst whom one Merideth Hammer, a doctor of divinitie and vicar of Islyngton, was a witness, who had dwelt as 
lewdlie towardes my lord in speeches as dyd the other, viz. . Walmesley. This doctor regardeth not an oathe. Surlie he is a very bad man ; but in the 
end the inditement was endorsed Billa vera." \ 

! St! private correspondence 0/ Lord Burghley, and oilitrs, published in Wright's " Qtuen Elizabeth and htr times." 


have taken place here. These conspiracies, instead of aiding the cause of Mary, only served to increase the jealousy of Elizabeth, 
who, kept as she was, in continual alarm by the i)lots and threatened insurrections, and apprehensive of any meditated escape, 
caused a greater degree of caution and watchfulness to be exercised towards her unhappy captive. Indeed, Mark's misfortunes 
were as much attributable to the rashness of her friends, as the malignity and vindictiveness of her enemies, and it was their 
mistaken zeal that prepared the way for her ultimate ruin. 

Of the many projects set on foot for the restoration of the captive Queen, the most romantic and that which eventually cost 
her her life, was the conspiracy headed by .'\nthony Babington, a young man of fortune, residing at Delhick, near Wingtield. 
Babington, who had been seduced by the .arguments of John liallard, a fanatical priest, conceived the idea of assassinating 
Elizabeth and her ministers, and invading England by Spanish troops, whilst a simultaneous insurrection of the Roman Catholics 
was to open the gates of Mary's prison, place her upon the English throne, and at once restore the Romish religion. The 
plot was betrayed to Secretary Walsingham, who caused the letters of the conspirators and of Mary herself to be intercepted. 
From some of these, which have been preserved, it is clear that the Spaniards were deeply implic.ited, and were much discon- 
certed at the discovery. Though Mary had been apprised by Babington of the design formed in her favour, and had signified 
her approval of it, it is not clear that she was privy to the premeditated murder of Elizabeth ; certain it is that her enemies 
have failed to prove the charge, and some of her accusers have admitted that they were perjured. On the discovery of the 
plot Mary's papers were seized, and she herself was removed to Follieringhay Castle in Northamptonshire. Ballard, who 
originated the conspiracy, was made prisoner at Dethick ; and Babington and some of his companions (led to the south, and for 
some time concealed themselves in the woods near Harrow, but were at length discovered, brought to trial, and convicted of 
high treason. Fourteen of them were executed, seven of whom, including Babington, died acknowledging their crime. 

The trial and execution of these wretched men was followed by one of still greater importance ; a commission of forty 
noblemen and privy councillors, with Lord Treasurer Burghley at their head, was sent to try the captive Queen on the chaise 
of knowing, approving, and consenting to Babington's conspiracy, and of expressly declaring her approbation of Elizabeth's 
assassination ; but she refused to acknowledge their jurisdiction, and protested against the prerogative which the Queen assumed 
in arraigning as a criminal a princess who like herself was an absolute sovereign. Ultimately she was induced to meet the 
commissioners and the examination proceeded, but all assistance was refused her, and even her request for an advocate was 
denied. The trial, which was a solemn mockery of justice, resulted in the sentence of death being recorded against her. An 
act of attainder followed, and after some delay, and a real or affected reluctance on the part of Elizabeth, the death warrant 
was signed, and the sentence carried into execution at Fotheringhay, on the Sth February, 1587. 

Though Elizabeth may have deemed her throne and even her life insecure, whilst Mary lived, no excuse nor justification 
can be offered for the extreme measure resorted to. That she was an able and vigorous politician, and had, moreover, the 
wisdom to surround herself with advisers possessed of extraordinary talents, unimpeachable integrity, and sound patriotic feeling, 
cannot be questioned ; but, despite the blaze of glory which it has been attempted to cast around her character, this one act 
will ever remain an indelible stain upon her reputation, and cause her name to be remembered with feelings of mingled sorrow 
and aversion. At the same time it must be borne in mind that the act, cowardly and unjustifiable as it was, was as much that 
of the country as of Elizabeth and of her government. Whatever her own private feelings may have been, it cannot be denied 
that she was urged by her ministers, her parliament, and her subjects to the last and crowning act of severity ; and when the 
sentence of death was announced it was hailed by the people with demonstrations of satisfaction and even joy. Though it cannot 
justify, it may in some degree palliate the conduct of the Queen, when we remember the cliaracter of the .ige in which she 
lived — an age in which the feudal barbarism that existed among our forefathers had hardly become extinct. 

Of Mary it may be said that she was the very perfection of elegance and refinement. She excelled in the freedom of her 
address and the variety of her accomplishmcnU ; her wit, her beauty, and the talents she possessed were unequalled, while she 
seemed to exercise a fascinating influence over all who approached her. Yet withal she was lamentably deficient in prudence, m 
judgment, and in principle, and, lacking that firmness of character and those higher qualities of mind so requisite in a ruler, she 
allowed herself to be beguiled by flattery and to be deceived by those she had foolishly trasted, and on whom she had lavished 
her favours in happier days. The most lovely of women, she was the most unfortunate of sovereigns. .\s a woman she had 
many failings, and as a queen she had still greater faults. Though her complicity in the murder of her husband has been denied, 
yet by bestowing her hand upon the assassin she absolved him from the crime and became herself a parlicipalor in his gudt. 
But when we remember her numerous misfortunes, the length and severity of her confinement, and the crael persecution to which 
she was subjected, we are constrained to pity rather than condemn. If in life the pride of royally was her nilmg passion ; in 
her last hours she exhibited a serenity of mind, a fervent piety, and a cilm and dignified resignation worthy of the "most heroic 
of the Christian martyrs. In those sacred momenU when the frailty of youth and the vanity of ambition could only be recalled 
with feelings of mingled shame and sorrow, she appeared to welcome the approach of the day that should rele.xse her from her 
earthly troubles, believing that she was to suffer for her consistency in the Catholic faith. As we look back upon these last 
scenes of her eventful history, the ofl"ences of her lif.- seem to be atoned for in the misery she endured, luul the crimes of her 
former years to be expiated by the shedding of her blood. Let us add, though we cannot entirely absolve, we cannot withhold 
our sympathy. In the words of M. Dargaud, ' We judge not — we only relate.' 

Wingfield, which, as we have .seen, lia<l been for several years the prison-house of the unfortunate Mary Stuart, was, in 
the succeeding century, destined lo be the theatre of some important military operations, in which it shared the fate of many of 
the old baronial residences of the period. 



During those unhappy struggles between Charles the First and his Parliament, which desolated the kingdom, and drenched 
it in civil slaughter, the house was alternately garrisoned by the Royalist and Parliamentarian armies, and became the scene of 
some hotly-contested engagements between the belligerent forces. At the outset of the civil wars it was held for the Parliamentarian 
party by Philip, Earl of Pembroke and Montgomery, he being one of the committee charged with the management of the estates of 
his sister-in-law, the dowager Countess of Pembroke. In November, 1643, it was stormed and taken by a detachment of the King's 
troops, headed by that chivalrous cavalier William Cavendish, Marquis and Duke of Newcastle, — the ' Loyal Duke,' as he was usually 

styled, and a garrison left in charge, commanded by Col. Roger Molineux. The victory, however, was but short-lived, for in the 

month of July, in the following year, it was again besieged by Lord Grey of Groby and Sir John Cell of Hopton, the latter of whom, 
possessing great local interest, and uniting considerable military skill, with a determined perseverance, had in a short time succeeded 
in inducing the greater part of the county to take up arms againjt the King, at whose hands he had, only a couple of years before, 
received the honour of knighthood. To such a degree was this interest exercised, that it was remarked by Lord Clarendon that 
' there was in Derbyshire no visible party for the King, the whole county being under the influence of Sir John Gell.' The assault 
was made by heavy artillery planted on Pentrich common, an elevated slope on the opposite side of the valley, and vigorously replied 
to by a battery which had been raised on the east side of the house. The siege appears to have been of some duration, for in the 
month of August the King sent General Hastings to the relief of the besieged, but his troops were driven back by the Earl of 
Denbigh and Sir John Gell. Finding it impossible to effect a breach, Sir John Gell ordered his gvms to be removed to within nearer 
range, when a more vigorous fire was opened. After the battle of Marston Moor his force was strengthened by a division of the Earl 
of Manchester's army, when, after a storming of a few hours from the united batteries, a breach was made, and the gallant defenders 
were compelled to surrender. During the conflict Colonel Dalby, the governor, was killed, having been shot by a common soldier, 
who fired at him through an opening in the wall. 

Some other trifling skirmishes between the contending parties took place here subsequently, and on the 23rd June, 1646, an 
order in Parliament was issued directing that the place should be dismantled. 

From this period little or no historical interest has attached to the mansion. Having been much shattered and defaced during 
the successive conflicts, it became neglected, and was allowed gradually to fall into decay, the dilapidations which age and strife had 
effected having been accelerated by those who ought to have preserved it from further devastation. 

In 1774, in consequence of a partition of the estate under a decree of the Court of Chancery, the manor-house became the 
property of Imanuel Halton, Esq., grandson of Imanuel Halton, the first of the name who resided here. That gentleman pulled 
down some of the finest portions of this magnificent mansion for the sake of the materials, which he employed in the erection of a 
plain and excessively ugly-looking structure on the opposite side of the valley, and all that now remains are the grass-grown courts, 
the ruined and roofless halls, the crumbling buttresses, the shattered ramparts, and the heaps of hoaiy ruins on which the everlasting 
ivy flourishes in all its pride. 

The palmy days of Wingfield are now over, and its glory has for ever passed away. Those grey and massive towers — the sad 
memorials of fallen grandeur, majestic even in decay, and beautiful in their desolation — which once reared their heads aloft and looked 
down with proud and stern defiance, braving the wmtry blast, and rejoicing in the summer sheen, are now crumbling gradually into 
dust, mocking the vanity of man, and evidencing the impossibility of resisting the silent, yet sure corroding hand of time, which, 
sooner or later, locks within its desolating grasp, the mightiest works of human creation. For — 

E'en so fares it with the things of earth 
Which seem most constant : there will come the cloud 
That shall enfold them up, and leave their place 
A seat for emptiness. 

The situation of Wingfield is exceedingly well chosen. It stands upon the verge of a rocky knoll which rises boldly from the 
plain a little to the south of the village, and commands an extensive view over the surrounding country. Its numerous towers, all 
crenellated and embattled, rising proudly above the spreading woods in which it is embosomed, when viewed from the opposite side 
of the valley, have a striking and highly picturesque effect, and invest it with an air of grandeur that well accords with the interesting 
and romantic associations connected with it. 

In its perfect state South Wingfield must have been a most magnificent residence, and, notwithstanding the neglect and disorder 
which prevails, it still affords in its general arrangement and construction a very characteristic example of the better class of mansions 
erected during the fifteenth century, the architectural details being of the first excellence, indicating the elaborate and splendid style in 
which the domestic stiuctures of that period were erected. 

In accordance with the constructive habits of the lime in which it was built, the plan consisted of two courts, the inner one an 
irregular quadrangle, round which were arranged the great hall, the chapel, and the state apartments, and communicating by an 
arched gatehouse or porch, with the outer court or bailey, which was enclosed on three sides by the offices, and the lodgings of the 
numerous retainers of the knightly and noble owners of the mansion ; the fourth side being occupied by the farm buildings, remains of 
which still exist, exhibiting some good examples of early perpendiciUar work. The principal entrance to the mansion was by a massive 
tower gateway at the south-east angle of the outer court. 

As already stated, the buildings which originally formed the three sides of the court, consisted chiefly of offices ; the greater part 
are now destroyed, and those which remain are disfigured with tasteless brickwork, and the incongruous materials that have been 
employed in modem repairs. Near the centre of the north side of this court is the porch or gateway leading to the inner quadrangle, 
flanked on each side by plain square towers. Over the archway are three shields, on one of which is carved three purses or money bags 



— an allusion to the office which Lord Cromwell, the founder, held as Treasurer of England. At the western end of this range of 
building is a massive square tower, embattled, with an exploratory turret rising from one of the angles, and between this and the porch 
arc two large chimney-stacks baltlemented at the top. 

The north court is very extensive, and the buildings which surround it, though roofless, shattered, and rained, exhibit some fine 
examples of Gothic carving and decoration, and convey a tolerably clear idea of the magnificent character of the original structure. 
The ground is covered with turf, and rank grass, docks, and nettles flourish abundantly, half hiding the fragments of decayed masonry 
that lie scattered about. The broken arches, the crumbling buttresses, and battlemerited walls have a striking eflecl, and the pictur- 
esqueness of their appearance is heightened by the evergreen, ivy, and trailing plants, which spread out their twisting stems and throw 
a mantle of loveliness over the mutilated scene. Opposite the porch is a gable, in which is a fine Gothic window of four lights, 
transomed, and surmounted by a crocketed ogee canopy terminated by a carved finial. This window gives light to an upper chamber, 
which, for some unknown reason, has been designated the drawing-room, though it is more likely to have been the domestic chapel, 
being the only apartment about the building adapted for that purpose. Adjoining this chamber is the porch or main entrance to the 
great hall, which still remains in a very perfect state of preservation ; the doorway is deeply recessed, and enriched with mouldings 
and carved roses. Above is a porch chamber, lighted by a small pointed window, surmounted by a sun-dial, and the whole is 
crowned by an embattled parapet, ornamented with quatrefoil panels and shields charged with armorial insigna. On the east side of 
the porch is a projecting oriel or bay, supported by rectangular buttresses, and lighted on three sides by pointed traceried windows ; 
supporting the parapet is a bold moulding or fascia, the latter adorned with foliated panels. The great hall, or banqueting chamber, 
which originally formed the chief entertaining apartment, is of noble proportions, measuring about 72 feet in length by 36 feet in 
width, deriving a further increase of size from the large oriel already noticed, the top of which, in the interior, has a fine paneled vault. 
This apartment appears to have been divided, at some period subsequent to its erection, into smaller chambers, and the windows 
altered to suit them ; the north side is lighted by a double range, and a corresponding range is said to have formerly existed on the 
south side, which latter have now disappeared. A great portion of the outer walls still remains, but the interior exhibits a complete 
ruin — a mere shell, scarcely retaining a feature of its former consequence. Near the oriel is a winding stair that conducts to a spacious 
underground chamber extending the entire length of the great hall, the vaulted roof of which is supported by a central row of massive 
stone columns, that give it the appearance of an ancient cathedral crj-pt ; • the vaultmg ribs are very substantial, and in the centre of 
each bay, where they meet, is a flat circular boss, ornamented wiih foliated panel-work, still remaining in excellent preser\'ation. What 
was the precise use for which this chamber was originally designed it would be diflicult to determine, unless it was intended- as a store 
or guard-room. From the lower end of the great hall there is a communication with the terrace-garden, and a passage leading beneath 
the chapel to the buttery and' the other offices ; adjacent to them is the kitchen, occupying the north-west angle of the building, the oven 
and fireplaco in which are very spacious, aflbrding, by their large dimensions, strong presumptive evidence that the founder of Wingfield 
was a man who loved good cheer and practised a generous hospitality. On the west side of the quadrangle formerly stood the apart- 
ments supposed to have been occupied by Mary Queen of Scots— a basement, and a few grey and moss-grown walls, and some broken 
mouldings half buried in grass and nettles, being the only remains that now exist ; a tall spreading tree grows near, its ample foliage 
heightening the efiiect of the general ruin and making the desolation look still more desolate. These apartments communicated with 
the great tower — a castellated erection with a polygonal watch turret abutting upon the north-east angle, pierced by numerous small 
pointed windows; a broken and disjointed stair leads to the top, from whence a comprehensive view of the ruins, and also a more 
extensive prospect of the neighbourhood of Wingfield and the sylvan scenery by which it is surrounded is obtained, t 

After these extracts, let us turn again and have a look at the noble old pile — glorious even in decay — 
sacred in its desolation. The same sun that illumined its stern walls when in their youthful strength, still 
brightens them in age ; the same breeze that stirred the heavy folds of its banner, now sweeps mourn- 
fully through its deserted halls.^the peaceful little river flows as calmly, and the lovely face of nature wears 
as bright an aspect as when the stronghold first reared its towering height. Like man who reared them, 
they are in solemn, silent, though slow decay. Man and his works fall into one common tomb at length 
— together, at last, they mingle their a,shes. But while we bow in reverence and sorrow to the fulfilment 
of an unerring law, a bright ray breaks through the gloom, and with joy we say, that though we and our 
works crumble into dust, that fate is but for a time. 

" Man alone, of all creation, 
Mocks corruptions iron sway ; 
Captive, death awhile may claim him, 
Anil, as host.Tge, hold the clay. 

* See Illustration. 

♦ For the forcRomg description of the M.innr Houne I am n..i. 1. i..,l. t,. mv fricn.l Mr. J.imcs Croslon. author of " On Fool through the Peak.' 
who visited the old place in the Sutumcr of 1864. 


But his grasp will soon be loosened, 
E'en the dust shall leave its tomb, 
And, in soul and body perfect 
Man survive creation's doom." 

But a survey of Wingfield Manor House suggests other thoughts. We see in its ruins the remnants of 
a 'semi-barbaric age, witli all its gigantic oppression and security. Wingfield Manor House remains to us 
proclaiming that the age of liberty has arrived, the serf has risen from bondage, and the " Villein " has 
burst his chains. We rejoice that from its tower no battle-cry now resounds, of either Royalist or 

Cromwellian. and that — 

" The trumpet's silver tones are still, 
The warder silent on the hill." 

No longer will gay retinues assemble with lance and sword within its walls — no more will " faire ladyes," 
amble on palfreys and hawks on wrist, with hounds baying their deep-mouthed joy, on issuing from its 
gates. Fair dames and damsels, and their gallants are all gone — 

" Mute each voice of mirth and gladness, 
Wassail song and frolic glee ; 
Minstrel's lay, rewarding largess, 
With its tones of melody." 

The walls are crumbling, the floors deserted, and 

" O'er them now decay doth triumph 
E'en though ages mocked his sway." 

The sublime and the ridiculous we all krtow are often very intimately blended, as will be seen even 
of this hoary relic. During the time the late Mr. Hunt was tenant of the Manor House, a cow contrived 
to find its way up the steps to the very top of the tower ! Many efforts were made to entice the creature 
down, but she seemed perfectly satisfied with her elevation, and not at all inclined to come lower in the 
world. Perhaps she was in a ruminating mood upon the lives, abodes, and pastures of her bovine 
ancestors ! Certain it is however, that although she might have found sermons in the stones of the tower, 
she did not find them good for eating, and when the servant girl, who always milked her, came up and 
called her, she, satisfied with her survey, turned round and followed her dowTi the steps in perfect safety ! 

We advise every visitor to follow the example of the quadruped, and view the grounds from the tower. 

" Mount this tower of feudal lordling, 
Climb each broken, stony stair ; 
Every lattice-casement crumbling 

-Slimy step, and damp walls bare," ? 

and the sight will well repay you, and your journey be not profitless, if only for the reflections it will 
bring, that " these latter days are the best, for the world grows older and wiser every day." 

The following names of a few of its visitors have been extracted by the writer from the Visitors' Book 
kept at the Manor House : — 
Sept. 13th — Charles Dickens; Sir Edwin Landseer. 

August 1 8th — Sir Oswald Mosley, Bart, President of Archaeological Association and Members. 
August 27 th — Rear-Admiral Sir Henry Dillon. 

June 7th — Count Pfefferskindle, Suabia. 

August 1 6th — Rev. Dr. Milman. 

1857 — Miss Emma Daemker from Zurich. 
September 2nd — Lord and Lady Glengall. 


August 1 6th — Sir Harry and Lady Verney. 


Amongst the visitors of this time-wom, time-honoured pUe, the reader will observe the names of Mr. 
Charles Dickens, and Sir Edwin I^andseer. It would indeed have been a rare treat to have listened to 
the remarks of either of these gifted men, while exploring its recesses, turrets, and towers ! Or could we 
but surmise what passed through the mind of the most popular writer of the age, or the pictures his 
memory might be treasuring up, connected with the great and unfortunate, which the place suggested, but 
whose memories are fast fading away among the dim traditions of tlie past ! Could he look upon such 
a ruin without thinking of the words of the poet — 

" The glories of our birth and state 

Are shadows, not substantial things : 
There is no armour against fate : 
Death lays his icy hands on Kings ; 
Sceptre and Crown 
Must tumble down. 
And in the dust be equal made 
With the poor crooked scythe or spade." 

To the poet and the painter, old Manors and Castles are haunts whose relics they love to note: they 
are like the perfume of flowers that never forsakes even the fragments of a broken vase in which they 
were once gathered, though faded and dead, yet sweet and grateful to the last. 



" No wrath of men, or rage of seas. 
Can shake a just man's purposes ; 
No threats of tyrants, or the grim 
Visage of them can alter him ; 
But what he doth at first intend, 
That be holds firmly to the end." 


HIS distinguished and accomplished lawyer, who acted for many years so prominent a part on the 
political arena, and presided with such dignity and ability over the Court of Queen's Bench as 
Lord Chief Justice, from 1832 to 1850, was the son of Dr. Denman, one of the court physicians 
in the time of King George the Third, whose father was a tradesman or farmer at Bakewell, a locality to 
which the family for successive generations has been so attached that the line of descendants is likely to 
perpetuate the residence. Dr. Denman was fond of his farm at Stoney Middleton, and Lord Denman by 
judiciously carried out improvements converted the farm house into a delightful residence. Dr. Denman 
had three children, Thomas, and two daughters, one of whom was married to Dr. Baillie, and the other to 
the unhappy Sir Richard Croft, who attended the Princess Charlotte in her confinement, and, being unable 
to get over the shock of her death, committed suicide. It was probably because he was surrounded by 
physicians in his family relations, that Lord Denman was reported to have been originally intended for the 
medical profession. This was not the case, however, his destination and choice having always been the bar. 
He was bom 23rd Februar)', 1779, and received his education at Eton, and at St. John's College, Cambridge. 
Unlike most young barristers, who are obliged to defer marriage till middle life, or to plunge their wives 
into poverty, he indulged himself with a home at an early age. He married, i8th October, 1804, Theodosia- 
Anne, eldest daughter of the late Rev. Richard Vevers, Rector of Saxby, Leicestershire, by Theodosia- 
Dorothy, his wife, daughter of Sir Edmund Anderson, Bart., of Lea ; and by her (who died 28th June, 1852,) 
had five sons and six daughters. Of the former, the eldest, Thomas, now second Lord Denman, was bom 
30th July, 1805 ; and married 12th August, 1829, Georgiana, eldest daughter of the late Rev. Thomas Roe. 
Mr. Denman's position at the bar became early a very honourable one ; and his name was connected 
especially with causes and trials in which the libertj' of the press was concerned. He appears on almost 
every occasion in the records of the prosecutions for political libels, blasphemy, and sedition, so frequent 
during the Tor)' administrations of the early part of the century. 

Mr. Denman was introduced into Parliament in 1818, being returned for the borough of Wareham. He 

immediately distinguished himself by his earnest advocacy of popular freedom — side by side with Brougham 

and Lambton — on all the many occasions furnished by the troubled years of 1819 and 1820. In those 

times of a Manchester massacre, a Cato-street conspiracy, Burdett letters, and prosecution of authors and 

printers, Mr. Denman was always found vigilant and eloquent in opposing Seizures of Arms' Bills, Seditious 

Meetings' Bills, Blasphemous and Seditious Libels' Bills, and doing his best to spoil the whole machinery of 

moral torture and intellectual restrictions framed by the Eklons, Sidmouths, and Castlereaghs of those 

unhappy days. His popularity was already great when his advocacy of the cause of Queen Caroline, on 

her return in 1820, made him the idol of more than "the populace," with whose admiration he was taunted 

so scornfully. He accepted the office of Solicitor-General to the Queen — at the sacrifice, he well knew, 

and everv'body knew, of his fair professional prospects. From the hour that, as one of her Commissioners 

(Mr. Brougham being the other) he met the Duke of Wellington and Lord Castlereagh as the King's 

Commissioners, it was felt that he had ruined himself, if professional advancement was the object of his life. 

Not only were all the high offices of the law closed to him during the reign of the King, who was not yet 

// .'l 

THi ^BGIHIT M©INI®t.« LOR© D i N Ifi*^ A IN , 

— > < — 



crow-ned ; but his " brothers," who were in the course of nature to succeed him, were almost as virulent as 
the King against all aiders and abettors of the Queen's claims. Mr. Denman suffered, as he knew he must, 
a long abeyance of professional advancement ; but the English nation were not likely to allow this to last 
for ever : and Thomas Denman was their Chief Justice at last 

When the Grey Ministry was formed in 1830, he was made Attorney-General, and knighted for the office, 
according to custom. The Nottingham people returned him to Parliament with high pride and delight. The 
Duke of Clarence, who had joined in the persecution of the Queen, had now laid aside old controversies ; 
and he made the liberal Attorney-General a peer in 1834, and Chief Justice of the King's Bench. In two 
years more. Lord Denman pronounced the decision that brought on the perilous quarrel between the Law 
Courts and Parliament. The history of the controversy need not be given here, as it may be found in the 
clironicles of the time, and seen to involve much more than Lord Denman's share in the business. 

No man ever took a loftier view of its duties to society. To quote but one example, the conduct of 
the Court in the difficult case of " Stockdale t. Hansard," when it was directly assailed by one branch of 
the Legislature, is a memorable instance of the exercise of that constitutional power which enables our 
judges to interpose the authority of the law against the arbitrary pretensions of the most powerful body in 
this realm, and to combat privilege in the name of justice. " Most willingly would I decline," said Lord 
Denman in dehvering judgment on that occasion, " to enter upon an enquiry which may lead to my differing 
from that great and powerful assembly (the House of Commons). But, when one of my fellow-subjects 
presents himself before me in this court, demanding justice for an injur)', it is not at my option to grant or 
to withhold redress. I am bound to afford it him, if the law declares him entitled to it. Parliament is said 
to be supreme. I must fully acknowledge its supremacy. // follows, then, that neither branch of it is 
supreme when acting by itself." In those few words, and in the judicial power of enforcing that truth, lies 
the supreme guardianship of the liberties of England. 

Lord Denman resigned the office of Chief Justice in 1850. The tributes of respect and affection offered 
by the bar and the public to the retiring judge were truly consolatory to his feelings, and as richly deserved 
as any honours ever offered to an aged public servant. 

In his retirement he was tenderly cheered, and in due course nursed by his affectionate children, and 
especially by his eldest son, who was his judge's associate when he was on the bench. 

Lord Denman lived the life of a reformer of abuses, and an enemy to all that in his judgment clouded 
the honour or impaired the public utility of our institutions. His hatred of negro slavery in every form 
rose to a passion, for he stood armed against cruelty and injustice, and in the wretched fate of kidnapped 
Africans and degraded slaves, he beheld the united and accumulated evils and wrongs which have most 
disgraced humanity and profaned religion. He powerfully contributed to the furtherance of those reforms of 
the criminal law which Sir Samuel Romilly had commenced, and which Lord Denman brought to the test 
of his own judicial experience. To the cause of toleration and freedom within the boundaries of law he at 
all times gave his hearty support, and in all the undertakings set on foot in our day for more extended 
popular education, for the diffusion of useful knowledge, for the refonnation of criminal offenders, and for 
other acts of enlightened charity he readily bore his part. The warmth he had sometimes displayed as a 
jiartisan gradually subsided under the higher duties of his judicial station and the soothing influence of age. 
His closing years, though afllicted by severe illness, were serenely devoted to that contemplation which is the 
worthiest termination of human life — to those acts of kindness which endear the memory of the departed — 
and to the exercises of religion which anticipate the final change. We rank him with the worthiest of his 
contemporaries, and the life he led affords, in our judgment, a better example to those who follow Kim than 
that of more eager and impetuous aspirants after power and fame. Certainly a more honourable or U|)right 
man never adorned the P^nglish bar; a more consistent or honest politician never crossed the threshold of 
Parliament ; nor did ever a more independent or purer minded individual preside on the judicial bench of 
lliis country. 



Oct. 27 : 


Nov. 30 

Dec. 20 



Feby. 2 ; 



1 1 




Augst. 9 


Septr. 1 9 

Deer. 18 




Jany. 12 : 



Feby. 5 


Mar. 25 

April 1 2 


May 16 



July 2 


Augst. 27 


Octr. I 




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A cordial julep 

Another bottle of surfeit water 

A glass of cinnamon water 

Another glass of the same 

A glass of Diacodium 

Mint Water 

Black Cherry Water 

A paper of Sperma Ceeti 

A glass of penn}Toyal water 

A glass of Syrup of Rhubarb 

A bottle of cephalick Drops 

A cordial Sudorifick Draught 

Sage of Vertue 

A bottle of Queen of Hungarys Water 

Damask Rose Water 

Treacle Water 

A cordial julep for the child 

Cinnamon water 

A plaister for the stomach 

A glass of oyl of sweet almonds &c 

A paper of burnt hartshome 


More of the same 

Hony and Bole Armenack 

A paper of Manna 

A bottle of plague water 

Another bottle of Julep 

Syrup of Mulberrys &c 

A paper of Gascoins Powder 

Oyl of mace cloves &c 

A glass of plague water 

A healing Gargarism 

A cordial pearl julep 

A bottle of cephalick drops 

Another pearl julep 

A pectoral mixture for y^ cough 

A glass of s}Tup of Rhubarb 

A compound purging Potion 

A dose of compound purging pills 

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HIS curious old relic of which we give an illustration, was found many years ago at Dale Abbey, 
by a farm-servant, in whose possession it remained for some time, and was then sold to a watch- 
maker in Derby, from whose hands it passed into our own. We are unable to judge correctly 
to what purpose it was originally applied, but as there is a crown distinctly visible in the upper portion, 
and as the cro^vn is one of the emblems of the Virgin Mary, to whom the Abbey was dedicated, we may 
safely conclude it formed a portion of the sacred regalia, before its dissolution in the reign of Henry 8th. 
The sketch is the full size of the original, which is hollowed so as to fit a round staff, and is beautifully 
chased in high relief. 

The Old Keys illustrated on the same plate, have originally belonged to various old oaken car\'ed 
coffers or chests, of which many may still be found in the rural districts, and of which we possess several 
good specimens. 


|HE following particulars have been copied from a wTitten manuscript kept by the late parish clerk 
of Stanton-by-Dale, and ar^ verified by the signatures of Richard Mee, John Foxon, Francis 
Hooley, and William Shepherd, four names well known in that district. — On the evening of 
Saturday, May 3, 1777, a man named Ralph Oakley, got his supper at the sign of the Red Lion, at 
Stanton-by-Dale, of the following different articles : — His first dish was two quarts of milk, thirty eggs, 
half-a-pound of butter, half-a-pound of sugar, three penny loaves, a quantity of ginger and nutmeg, and an 
ounce of mustard, all boiled together. His second course consisted of a piece of cheese, and a pound of 
boiled bacon to it. His third was half-a-pound of bacon, fried ; a penny loaf, a quart of ale, three half- 
penny worth of gingerbread, and then a pint of ale. His fourth was a custard (from new cheese) of two 
pounds ; an ounce of mustard and some pepper as the sauce to it, mi.xed with a ])int of new milk. He 
then had three pints of ale to wash all down. All these things he dispatched in less than an hour, and 
swore that he could eat as much more. Immediately after this supper he ran for a wager, a distance of 
three hundred yards, with a young man (a stranger to Stanton) of the name of Windley, and beat him b)- 
a score yards at least : afterwards he sat down with the rest of the people in the house, and drank as 
freely as any of them for nearly two hours. 


GIRL, from Derbyshire, lately went to one of the Draper's shops in Nottingham, and asked for 
" Three yards of grane rib'n." The shopman instantly looked for the article ; but not having any 
ribbon of the sort wanted, told her he would cut her three yards of pur|)le ribbon ; and if she 
would '' conceive " it was green, it would answer all the same jjurpose. The three yards were cut, wrapped 
up, and given to the girl, who instantly made for the shop door, but was called to for payment, upon 
which she naively replied, " Ha mut consate ha wor pede, an it wud anser aw the same perpos." 




We live in deeds not years, in thoughts not breaths. 
In feelings not in figures on a dial. 
We should count time by heart-throbs. He most lives 
Who thinks most : feels the noblest : acts the best. 


a^E hope the reader understands that our purpose in these Biographical Sketches, is not to attempt 
the methodical arrangement of a Biographical Dictionar)^ in which the number and proportional 
length of the articles are matters to be considered ; but rather to select some prominent Derbyshire 
names, to which opportunity and inclination may attract. Hence the length and structure of each sketch 
depends on the amount of materials accessible to the writer, his judgment and taste in choosing from them, 
and his faciUty in the narration. 

Having said this much as to design, we would also add that the department of biography is crowded 
with the lives of men distinguished in War, Politics, Science, Literature, and the Professions. All the 
embellishments of rhetoric and the imagination have been essayed to captivate, stimulate, and direct into 
these " upper walks of life," as they are entitled, the youthful mind and ambition of the countr\'. Not 
content to make the colleges and higher educational institutions hotbeds and nurseries to germinate and 
train aspirations for fame, military and ci\dc, the most brilliant achievements in the field, the forum, the 
hall, and at the bar, of the great men of the past and present, have been exhibited in colours warm and 
glowing, to charm and inspire. 'Example has been added to precept ; the teachings of the lecture-room 
have been enforced by illustrations from real life, and the chaplet of glorj- and renown has been held up 
as the great and only prize. 

The result of this system is manifest, pettifoggers, quacks, pedants, demagogues, and militarj' officers 
are manufactured wholesale. Thousands of young men of ability are lured into professions for which they 
are unsuited, while everything of a commercial, agricultural, or mechanical character is considered low. 
We think all the great divisions of labour should be honoured, and the paths of labour should be indicated, 
as the real highways to honour. 

In this view we present the subject of this sketch ; a man of the people, with an education merely 
fitted for his business and trade ; who, by the force of high purpose and invincible resolution, industry, 
energy, enterprise, and bold mind, and an honest heart, not only achieved independence, but won a name 
for sagacity, public spirit, punctuality, and probity, that reflects the highest honour on labour and on his 

Mr. Joseph Brotherton was a native of 'WTiittington, near Chesterfield, and was descended of reputable, 
though not wealthy parents, his father John Brotherton, having kept a boarding-school. He was bom May 22nd, 
1783. At the age of boyhood he was sent to a factory to assist in earning his living. It was customary at that 
period for small farmers and tradesmen to send their sons to a factor)', much as the)- now do to a 
merchant's warehouse to learn a trade and acquire business habits. From a factory lad he made his way as 
a commercial man, and by steadfast perseverance and judgment, he ultimately became a partner in business 
as a cotton spinner with Mr. Alderman Hervey at Manchester, but retired from the partnership about 30 
years before he died, on what was considered a very moderate competence, but wth sufficient for a man of 
his economical and quiet habits. From an early age he was a total abstainer from intoxicating drinks, and 
was also a vegetarian, having early joined a religious sect in Salford who were abstainers and vegetarians. 
As a pohtician he had also formed opinions early, and at the close of the war in 1815, he was connected 
with an influential party in Manchester, who might be considered the connecting Unk between the reformers 
of 1794 and those of a later day, but he did not join the more extreme part)- of Hunt and Cobbett. In 
the years 1817-19, however, during the suspension of the Habeas Coqius Act, he was one of those who 





stood forward to demand a fair trial for tlie poor men who were thrown into gaol at that period ; and after 
the Peterloo riot of 18 19, he aided in getting u]) a subscription for the sufferers. He was what was 
locally called a rational radical, and joined heartily in the struggle for the Reform Bill. The people of 
Salford properly marked their sense of his services in assisting to enfranchise their borough, by electing him 
as the first member, in 1832. In the house he showed himself ever a consistent and firm advocate of 
liberal opinions ; all progressive measures, and especially all of a benevolent and educational character, had 
his earnest and staunch support. He carried his love of reform even to amending the mode of canning 
on business in Parliament. Every politician knows how strenuous were his efforts to shorten the sittings of 
the Commons after midnight. In his attendance upon his parliamentary duties, Mr. Brotherton was most 
assiduous. Rarely was the Speaker in the chair and Mr. Brotherton absent; and it was not an unfre(|uent 
occurrence for the Speaker to call upon the hon. Member to move the adjournment of the House, when 
the Secretary to the Treasury had retired. Mr. B. was Chairman of the Pri\ate Bills' Committee. He 
took so lively an interest in the business arrangements of the House of Commons, that it was his invariable 
custom, at the close? of each session, to move for a series of returns showing the progress of public and 
private business ; the number and duration of sittings, and the number of divisions. Though representing 
a manufacturing constituency, he was a warm advocate with Lord Ashley, now Earl of Shaftesbury, and the 
late Mr. Fielding, of the Ten Hours' Bill ; and he was accustomed to deduce arguments in its favour from 
his own career ! 

He was always an opponent of the Corn Laws. He jjrotested against them when they were first imjjosed 
in 1815, and continued to take every opportunity of seeking their repeal down to the formation of the 
Anti-Corn Law League, of which he was an active member, ever ready to go upon dejii^tions and other 
business along witli Messrs. Cobden, Bright, and others. 

Mr. Brotherton died very suddenly on the 7th Januar)-, 1857, about 5 minutes to 11 o'clock in the 
morning, while travelling in an omnibus from his residence at Pendleton, through Salford, to keep an 
appointment in Manchester. Mr. B. had been suffering from an affection of the heart for some time, but 
still was in his usual apparent health up to the time he entered the omnibus, and had on the previous 
day presided as a Magistrate at the Salford Police Court. In the omnibus with him were some friends, 
and Sir John Potter had but just given him an invitation to spend an evening with him during the following 
week, when a sudden change of countenance in the hon. Member attracted the notice of Sir John, who 
observed — " How ill he looks I " and immediately he had uttered the words, Mr. Brotherton reclined gently 
backwards as if for support. The omnibus was at once stopped, and Mr. B. was carried into the house of 
a surgeon close at hand, but the time had already gone by when any human aid could avail, and it is 
believed that he had ceased to e.vist before he was taken out of the omnibus. 

It is difficult to mention a man in his own neighbourhood whose death could have occasioned greater 
regret. He had lived such a life of usefulness, was of such a placid, inoffensive demeanour, combined 
with honourable consistency in public life, that he had won more esteem and friendship than most 
))oliticians of his class have the good fortune to secure. 

The Manchester Guardian gives this reference to his private life : — 

" In unceasing efforls to promole commercial freedom, social improvement, popular education, and every great and good 
object, Mr. Brotherton was accustomed to pass those intervals, short and few, which the recesses of Parliament left at his 
disposal. This whole time (save when of late years impaired health rendered it necessary for him to seek restoration in the 
fresh breezes of some bathing places on the coast,) was devoted at home, as in Parliament, to the fulfilment of his various self- 
imposed duties. Upon the magisterial bench, on local committees, in public meetings, he was always ready to help forward, 
with the full weight of his iniluencc, and with the sage counsels of a ripe experience of public affairs, every good and benevolent 
work. His high character, strict probity, readiness to serve others, and great business capacity, imposed upon him more 
fre'iuently, and often more onerously than desirable, the duties of executor for some deceased friend —duties which, like all 
others, public and private, he discharged under a solemn sense of his responsibility. Of his kindness to all who sought his aid 
or advice, his ever warm and deep sympathies for the poorer clxsses of the community, his sincere and steady friendships, and 
his alTectionate intercourse with his family, his relatives, and intimate friends, a public journal is scarcely thcj fitting voucher ur 
recorder. It must suffice to say that in all the relations of life he was exemplary." 


The Corporation of Manchester and Salford adopted resolutions expressing their deep regret at the loss 
experienced by the death of Mr. Brotherton. The ]\Ierchants did the same. All classes vied in doing 
honour to his memory. We have only room for the following resolution, as a sample of others :— 

" That the Justices for tlie City of Manchester fully sj-mpatbise with their fellow-citizens in the feeling of regret, so general 
in this large community, at the death of Mr. Brotherton. He has been one of their body since its first formation ; and, although 
his services as a Magistrate have for the most part been given as a County Justice, yet in any matters of great interest, when 
his other duties have allowed him, he has always been disposed and ready to give the benefit of his experience and counsel 
within the city. For all these qualities which have rendered his public services so eminent, in the various capacities in which 
he has rendered them, his sound judgment, his calm temper, his persevering energy, the unvarying interest he has ever taken in 
all measures to promote the amelioration or happiness of his fellow-subjects, the Justices entertain the most profound respect. 
At the present moment their feelings partake more of a personal nature ; they deplore the loss of one who has been bound to 
them by many ties of friendship, and whose gentle and kindly disposition has attracted the affection and regard of all who have 
been brought into intercourse with him." 

A Statue of Joseph Brotherton, M. P., has been erected to his memorj- in the Peel Park, Salford. At 
the inauguration of this monument, at which the Mayor presided, the Bishop of Manchester gave utterance 
to the following sentiments : — 

"Bom," he said, "not among the operative class, yet, at the same time, labouring for a considerable portion of his life 
with them, he learnt to estimate their situation, to sj-mpathise ^>-ith their feelings, to note their privations, and he appeared to have 
devoted himself, as an ardent and zealous practical missionary, in their cause. Retiring at a period when most persons are eager in 
the pursuit of reputation or of gain, and on a moderate competency, which was wealth to him, for his wants were few, he devoted 
himself with unceasing energy to his duties as a citizen. But though calm and quiet as regarded hiniself, he was not wanting in a high 
spirit as regarded the wrongs of others. When the Government of the country, exceeding the due bounds of moderation, were attempt- 
ing to put down by unjustifiable violence the expression of the popular will, Joseph Brotherton, then a simple inhabitant of Salford, 
was one of the most earnest and most forward to join in the protest The local charter and charities of Salford, and innumerable 
public services there, attested his devotion to the cause of his constituency. Re\iewing his career, it was perfectly astonishing to see 
with what assiduous zeal and energy, yet at the same time how modestly, he took part in every measure that was brought forward for 
the benefit of others during the last forty years, which no person who dispassionately considered the history of England would hesitate 
to acknowledge had been pre-eminently remarkable for social alterations. In the department of private legislation, Mr. Brotherton 
was unrivalled, and in the latter years of his life his word was considered conclusive almost on the subject of a private bill. With 
respect to his religious convictions, Mr. Brotherton possessed the most extensive toleration, yet was not indifferent himself to what he 
professed. To quote his own declaration, he had always been educated in religious precepts and taught to believe in God, in His 
revealed Word, and he believed that the Redeemer came to rescue man from darkness and error, to implant truth and goodness in his 
mind, and to make him wise and good. It was on that principle that Mr. Brotherton acted through all his life. If he advocated the 
extension of the franchise, he was still more zealously an advocate of the education of the people, to enable them worthily to discharge 
tlie high duties of a constituent. Wishing to retrench the hours of labour, he endeavoured to do so in spite of those nearest connected 
with him ; but, besides education, he was no less zealous to provide parks, museums, and recreation for the people, to render profitable 
the hours gained from labour. This was the man whose memory they were assembled to honour and perpetuate. It was a proud 
period in the history of a country when those who had cultivated the ciril arts were accorded the full reward that was due to them. 
The people of Salford had done well to erect this statue as a testimony of their determination to reward those who endeavoured to 
make men better in civil pursuits, to improve their homes, as well as carry on the public business of the country." 

The corporate authorities and other persons present, at the conclusion of the Bishop's address, formed in 
order of procession, and adjourned to the park, when the Statue was uncovered in their presence, and after 
short addresses from Sir J. Potter, M.P., and Mr. James Brotherton (son of the late member), the formality 
of handing over the property from the committee to the Corporation was gone through. The statue fronts 
the principal entrance gates to the park, and is within a short distance of them. The inscription on the 
face of the pedestal is — 

"Joseph Brotherton, the first, and for upwards of twent)'-four successive years, the faithful representative of the borough of Salford 
in the House of Commons. Bom May 22, 17S3 ; died January 7, 1857." 

On the Park side of the statue are the words uttered by the honourable gentleman on a memorable 
occasion in the House of Commons : — 

"My riches consist, not in the extent of my possessions, but in the fewness of my wants." 

P / X / //. . -^ 

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HE Letters are addressed to "Mr. Fisher, at his House in Derby," and are very characteristic of 
the most " perfect gentleman " of his time. 

London, Jany. 26th, 1768. 
Mr. Fisher, 

Yesterday I received your letter of the 21st with t^vo bills inclosed, one for ^1250 - 17 - 2, 
the other for ^^862- 14- ir, the ballance of your accounts, which I find very right. 

As I have had various api)lications for what they call my interest for the County of Derby at the 
approaching general Election. Pray tell whoever it may concern or not, that I am resolved to be scrupu- 
lously neutral in the dirty work of Elections, and will neither meddle nor make directly or indirectly. 

I am. 

Your assured friend, 


London, June 13th, 1769. 

Mr. Fisher, 

I received yesterday your letter with a Bill of ^1200 which I find very right, and return 

you here inclosed one copy signed. I am very glad that you find yourself something better, but I am surprised 

that you chuse to consult a Derby Farrier rather than the best and most experienced Physician in England, 

Dr. Ed. Wilmot, who is but sixteen miles from you, and allyed to you. Pray either go to him, or desire 

him to come to you. 

I am, 

Your sincere friend, 


London, Decern: 21st, 1769. 
Mr. Fisher, 

Yesterday I received your letter with the inclosed bill for ^^1054, and your account which 
I here return you signed. 

LT])on your state of the case relative to the free School at Repton, I think Mr. Prior's demands most 
unreasonable, and as such I shall not com[)Iy with them. It is thus that most charitable foundations have 
been abused, by filching gradually something from the real objects of them, to gratify the Master, the 
Treasury, the Secretary, &cra. That is what I call Sacrilege, and not the stealing of a jjulpit cloth, or a 
common prayer book out of a church. 

I am. 

Your sincere friend, 



London, May 5th, 1770. 
Mr. Fisher, 

I have just now received your letter of the 3d with an inclosed bill of ^1000 for part of 
the hah" years rent due last Michaelmas. 

The number of Deer which you mention in Brettby Park is I think fully sufficient, and yet will 
admitt of taking in Beasts. 

I cannot answer your kind inquirys after my health as either you or I could wish, for without having 
any particular distemper, I have all the many inconveniencys of seventy six ; I am weak and low spirited, 
and my sleep and appetite decrease every day, and the final day I believe draws very near. I take it 
that you and I are very near of an age, and I wish you may be free from all the disagreable concomitants 
of old age, which I feell, for 

I am, 

Your very- sincere friend, 


London, July y" 2ist, 1770. 
Mr. Fisher, 

I send you here inclosed a letter which I received by the last post from Mr. Fletcher. 
You will do what you please in the affair, that is, what is for my reasonable advantage, and not too hard 
upon the Parson. 

I am. 

Your sincere friend, 



MONG the many episodes of a battle-field, there are none so touching as the last moments of a 
brave soldier. Capt. Curzon, son of Lord Scarsdale, was on the staff, and received a mortal 
wound towards the end of the battle, and lay bleeding to death by the side of his favourite 
charger, one of whose legs had been shattered by a cannon ball. As Lord March was passing by, Curzon 
had just strength to call to him, " Get me help, my dear March, for I fear it is all over with me." Lord 
March hastened to look for a Surgeon, and found one belonging to the first battalion of our regiment, who 
went to the poor fellow's assistance ; but, alas ! life was extinct before the doctor arrived. The doctor, in 
relating this event to us afterwards, said, " I found poor Curzon dead, leaning his head upon the neck of 
his favourite horse, who seemed to be aware of the death of his master, so quiet did it remain, as if afraid 
to disturb his last sleep. As I approached, it neighed feebly, and looked at me as if it wanted relief from 
the pain of its shattered limb, so I told a soldier to shoot it through the head to put it out of its pain. 
The horse as well as its master were both old acquaintances of mine, and I was quite upset by the sight 
of them lying dead together." This tribute of sraipathy and feeling was the more remarkable as coming 
from the Doctor, who was one of the hardest and roughest diamonds I ever remember to have known ; 
but on this occasion something moved him, and he had tears in his e)-es as he related the incident. — 
Gronow's Second Series of Recollections of Waterloo, &^e. 


j]N the month of Januar)', 1833, Mrs. Ann Blore, of Derby, published a pamphlet, giving an account 
of the absconding of her son Isaac Blore, fourteen years previously. From this it appeared, that 
the latter had been, by his maternal grandfather, a gentleman of considerable property, bound 
apprentice, at the age of fifteen, to a respectable silk mercer. Not liking the business, and being, 
according to the pamphlet, ill-treated by his master, he represented the same to his grandfather, who, 
however, refused to listen to him. Immediately after this in July, 1819, he absconded, and up to the end 
of March, 1837, was never heard of In the meantime, the grandfather having died, and left a very large 
property, advertisements were inserted in the papers, all over England, but particularly in those of Liverpool 
and Manchester, offering large rewards for his discovery. Various reports reached the ears of his parents, 
one of which was, that he had been killed at Manchester, ha\ing joined the crowd assembled at Peterloo, 
in which he was crushed to death. Another account said that he had enlisted at Liverjjool, into the 76th 
Regiment of Foot. Of the numerous narratives which reached Mrs. Blore, not one, if we may trust the 
evidence of her pamphlet, appears to have been believed, but, with the tenacity of female affection, she 
clung to hope to the last. About the 20th March, 1837, Mrs. Blore received a letter from Liverpool, 
which purported to have come from her long-lost son. She immediately sent an individual to that town 
to have an inter\'iew with the person who had written to her, and to ascertain whether he was really the 
person he rejiresented himself to be. As Mrs. Blore was requested to address at the Post Office, the 
individual whom she sent called upon Mr. Banning, with whom he had an interview. The latter sent for 
Constable Halsall, to whom he intrusted the management of the concern, rightly judging that he would 
know better how to go about the discovery than a mere stranger. However, the person who had written 
to Mrs. Blore, called at the Post Office and inquired for a letter, when he was immediately invited to 
walk into Mr. Banning's office, while Halsall was dispatched in search of Mrs. Blore's messenger. The 
latter was found, and the requisite inquiries were made. It ajjpeared that he had been residing, during 
the whole period of his absence in France. On his arrival at Derby, his mother was perfectly satisfied of 
his identity, and with her long-lost son removed from Derby to Etwall, which place was chosen for their 
future residence. 


jl.XNY years ago, a Negro Servant, wandering up and down the country out of place, passing through 
Shipley in the night, stole a goose from the premises of Mr. Beer, a respectable farmer of the 
village. The Engine-fire of tlie Colliery at that place caught his attention, and he made towards 
it. The Engine was then worked alternately by two men, one in tiic day and the other during the night. 
As the Black approached and the glare of the flame was cast on his dusky features, he met the gaze of 
the solitary wight standing at the door of the, who, panic-struck, instantly recognized in him 
the real existence of the long-doubted tale of his Satanic Majesty, and lletl. It was in vain that the 
Negro, who well understood the cause of the man's terror, called aloud, " Me am a man, me am no 
devil ;" he did not seem disposed to place any reliance on the word of one, of whom, during his whole 
life, he had heard ever)thing that was deceitful and horrible. Leaving the engine to work it.self, or cease 
as it pleased, he reached home in a most deplorable condition, having shown the utmost contempt for 
hedges, gorse-bushes, ditches, &c. At break of day, when he with his fellow-workmen ventureil back to 
the place, contrary to expectation, the terrible visitor had not vanished, but was just throwing away the 
remains of his repast. The goose when killed, had been, with its feathers on, cased in a thick coat of 
clay and baked in the engine fire. The capaciousness of the Negro's stomach ceased to he wonderful, 
when he told them he had been several days without food ; and the fanner, who received early notice of 
the thief, instead of prosecuting him, as he at first intended, humanely relieved his wants. 




" Honour and adoration, power and praise. 
To Him who tracks the comet's pathless ways ; 
Who to the stars has their bright courses given, 
And to the sun appoints his place in heaven; 
And rears for man a mansion more sublime, 
Not built with hands, not doom'd to stoop to time ; 
Whose strong foundations, unimpaired, shall stay, 
When sun, and stars, and worlds, and all things pass away." 

H E brief sketch here presented is intended to afford an example for emulation. That the memory 
of such persons, besides being treasured in the hearts of relatives and friends, should have its 
^1 record for the generality of people also, is peculiarly proper ; because a knowledge of men whose 
substantial fame rests upon their attainments, character, and success, must exert a wholesome influence 
on the rising generation of our people ; while to those who have arrived at a period in life not to be 
benefitted by lessons designed for less advanced age, it cannot fail to prove interesting. 

Individual enterprise, which is so justly the boast of this nation, is here strikingly exhibited. We trust 
it will instil into the bosom of our children this lesson — that honour and station are the sure reward of 
continued exertion, and that, compared with a- good education, with habits of honest industry and economy, 
the greatest wealth would be but a poor inheritance. 

John Flamstead, the eminent Astronomer and Mathematician, was the son of Stephen Flamstead, a 
reputable yeoman of Derby. He was born August ig, 1646, at Denby, to which place his parents had 
temporarily removed on account of the sickness prevailing in Derby at that time. He was educated at the 
Free-school in this town, and at fourteen was visited with a severe fit of sickness, which, being followed by 
other distempers, prevented his going to the university, has had been originally intended. 

Taken from school when he was sixteen, he followed his studies at home, particularly mathematics, 
without assistance. On sending some astronomical calculations to the Royal Society, he received in return 
a letter of thanks. In 1671 he visited London, and soon after became a student of Jesus-College, 
Cambridge, where he wTote a tract on the true and apparent diameters of the planets, which, being com- 
municated to Newton, was made use of by him in his Principia. In 1673 he wrote an Ephemeris, which 
procured him the friendship of Sir Jonas Moore, at whose desire he drew up one for the King. He also 
made a barometer, which was presented to his Majesty, who appointed him Royal Astronomer, with a 
salar}' of one hundred pounds a year. 

About this time, having taken his master's degree, he entered into orders ; and was preferred to the 
living of Burstow, near Blechingley, in Surrey, which he held as long as he lived. In 1675 the Royal 
obsierv'atory at Greenwich was founded ; and as Mr. Flamstead was the first Astronomer Royal, the edifice 
is still called Flamstead House. Here, or in the neighbourhood, he continued for the remainder of his 
life, employed in the promotion of his sublime and favourite science. 

Of Mr. Flamstead's eminent abilities, and unwearied application, his valuable work which contained 
the main operations of his life, the " Historia Ccelestis Britannica," in three large folio volumes, as well as 
his many contributions published in the " Philosophical Transactions," afford ample evidence. Of the very 
high estimation in which he was held by the men most distinguished for genius and science among his 
contemi)oraries, and in which his labours have been esteemed by the ablest astronomers of modern times, 
we might easily supply abundant testimonies, did space allow. 
Dr. John Keill says of him: — 



"Mr. Flamstead, with indefatigable pains, for more than forty years, watched the motions of the stars, and gave us innumerable 
observations of the sun, moon, and planets, which he made with very large instruments, exactly divided by the most exquisite art, and 
fitted with telescopical sights. Whence we are to rely more upon the observations he hath made, than on those that went before him, 
who had made their observations with the naked eye, without the assistance of telescopes." 

In the Gentleman's Magazine for February, 1735, 'his anecdote is preserved. 

It appears that Mr. Flamstead would sometimes unbend from his profound studies and invite company 
to his house, with whom he would enjoy convivial intercourse, and whom he entertained by the pleasantries 
of wit. On one occasion, it is said that the facetious Thomas Brown was among the guests present ; who, 
after an elegant dinner, and the cheerful circulation of the glass, was requested to divert the company 
with some extempore verses. At first he modestly declined : but on being unanimously requested, he wrote 
the following lines : — 

" We here are invited to a Zodiac of mirth. 

Where Arits and Scorpio do give it birth. 

Here Leo ne'er roars, nor Taurus ne'er bellows. 

But Gemini-X^Q we commence merry fellows. 

Here Canar and Pisces agree with our wishes, 

Whilst all round the table we drink here like fishes. 

Let Libra fill wine without old Aquarius, 

Whilst quivers of wit fly from Sagittarius, 

And to crown all our mirth we will revel in Virgo, 

And Capricorn he shall supply us with cargo." 

Mr. Flamstead, however, was the associate not only of wits, but of the wise, not the least of whom 
was Newton, Barrow, Rae, Dr. Wallis, Halley, Molineaux, Cassini, &c. 

He was married, but had no children; and died December 31st, 1719, of a strangury. Though he 
lived to above 73 years of age, yet from his infancy he had been ailing, and in a letter to Mr. Collins, 
in 1670, he was so ill that he was afraid he might not live to prei)arc his papers for the press, and yet 
he lived about fifty years aftenvards ! 

In conclusion, we may observ'e that Mr. Flamstead was one of those indomitable persons whom neither 
sickness nor poverty could crush ; whose integrity and strength of character must force them into fame, 
which their modesty never seeks ; who will command the esteem and respect of their conteinporaries and 
their posterity. 

Business men are not unfrequently brought into special notice by the rapid growth of their fortune ; 
the stream of wealth flows in u])on them. They hasten to be rich — riches give them notoriety — their 
influence is great. But it is the influence of money. Take this away and they fall out of sight. It was 
only the golden god that was worshipjjed. So with men of one idea — the idea of riches — they subjugate 
everything to it — they become wealthy and noted. The world applauds, but it was by abnegating that 
world they obtained their glory — the glory of selfishness. 

Such was not Mr. Flamstead. He was no millionaire; he was not the favoured son of lucky accident 
or speculation — he never victimized his neighbours — in fact he was poor in gold, but rich in .science, anil 
his name is one that the world of intellect will not 

" Willingly let imic." 


Me was known to be a great Astronomer, and persons of his profession are often supposed, by the common people, to be 
capable of foretelling events. In this persuasion, a poor washerwoman of tJrccnwich, (where he was Astronomer Royal,) who 
had been robbed at night of a large parcel of linen, to her almost ruin, if forced to pay for it, came (o him, and with great 
.-inxicty earnestly requested him to use his art, to let her know where her things were, and who had robl>cd her. He happened 
to be in the humour to joke ; and bid her stay, and lie would sec what he could do ; perhaps she might find them ; but wlm 


the persons were he would not undertake to say, and as she could have no positive proof to convict them, it would be useless. 
He then set about drawing circles, squares, &c., to amuse her ; and after some time, told her, if she would go into a particular 
field, that in such a part of it, in a dry ditch, she would find them all bundled up in a sheet. The woman went, and finding 
them, came with great haste and joy to thank him, and offered him half-a-crown as a token of gratitude, being as much as she 
could afford. Mr. Flamstead, surprised himself, told her — " Good woman, I am heartily glad you have found your linen, but I 
assure you I knew nothing of it, and intended only to joke with you, and then to have read you a lecture on the folly of 
applying to any person to know events not in the human power to tell ; but I see the devil has a mind I should deal with 
him ; I am determined I will not : so never come, or send any one, to me any more, on such occasions, for I never will 
attempt such an affair again whilst I live." This anecdote Mr. Flamstead told to the reverend and learned Mr. Whiston, his 
intimate friend and associate. 


• ^t'ftl'OH' . 



" When thou haply se'est 
Some rare noteworthy object in thy travel, 
Wish me partaker in thy happiness." 


|HERE is no more interesting scenery and views in England than are to be found in Derbyshire, 
especially to those who possess a lively sensibility to all the influences of local attachment and 
native associations. And to anti(iuanes and the lovers of nature generally, this fine old county 
and its historical associations alike commend themselves ; and we can scarce tread any part of the county 
but we set 

" Our foot upon some reverend historv." 

We might dilate upon the sylvan beauties of our villages, such as Ashford-in-the-Water ; our wild dales, 
such as Dove Dale ; our winding and classic rivers, like the Wye, the Dove, and the Der^vent, in whose 
praise, Drayton, in his Polyolbion, while chanting the praises of the Trent, says — 

" She takes into her train rich Dove, and Darwin clear — 
Darwin, whose font and fall are both in Derbyshire ; 
And of those thirty floods that wait the Trent upon. 
Doth stand without compare, the very Paragon." 

Our savage-like solitudes such as Chee Tor — the deep clefts of Cressbrook, the rocky passes of Miller's 
Dale — the fairy scenes of Monsal, the gorgeous mansion of Chatsworth ; and say that for beauty, variety, 
and artistic attractions, Derbyshire can bear comparison with any spot in Britain. 

Among the many interesting villages of South Derbyshire, there is perhaps none more pleasant than 
Risley, the old seat of a branch of the noble Family of Willoughby. The picturesque old stone gateways, 
the terrace nearly three hundred feet long, moat, and remains of the fine old Hall attest the glories of the past. 

Risley Hall, in the hundred of Morleston and Litchurch, and in the deanery of Derby, lies on the road 
from Derby to Nottingham, eight miles distant from each. Roger de Busli appears to have been Lord of 
Risley when the survey of Domesday was taken ; but in the same record it is stated that Levinus possessed 
one-third of the manor, and that he was succeeded by his son. In the reign of Edward the First, William 
Morteyne held the manor under the Pavely family. We learn also that Risley was granted in the reign of 
Edward the Third, to Geoffrey, son of Roger Mortimer, Earl of March ; and was afterwards the property 
of the Lords Sheffield, ancestors to the Duke of Buckingham. It was purchased of them by the 
Willoughby's of Risley, in the year 1587. Michael Willoughby and Katherine his wife built the domestic 
Chapel in 1593, and founded the School which they endowed with twenty nobles, aftenvards increased by 
their Grandson, Sir Henry Willoughby, to twenty marks. The heiress of the Willoughby's, Elizabeth, 
married the Honourable Anchitel Grey, brother to Lord Stamford, whose daughter and heir built the present 
head-master's house, anno 1706; also the Latin School and otlier buildings, and increased the endowment 
with money and lands, now amounting to about jCaoo pc annum. She had left in her will " so much 
oak to be cut out of her Park at Risley as would be required to complete these buildings," biit happily 
lived to see them finished. This benevolent Lady was buried with her ancestors in the old Church of 
St. Chad, at Wilne, in the chancel of which, and also in the beautiful chapel on the south side, are some 
interesting Brasses and Tombs of the family. This chapel is attached to the manor of Risley. Sir Hugh 
Willoughby, the first Arctic circumnavigator, who was frozen to death in the time of Queen Elizabeth, was 
of this family, and a most interesting full length portrait of him is now in the jiossession of Lord Middleton, 
and hangs in the Hall at Woollaton. 

It was of the above-mentioned Sir Hugh Willoughby, that Thomson in his " Siwors " so emphatically 
spoke in these lines — 



' Here Winter holds his unrejoicing court ; 
And through his airy hall, the loud misrule 
Of driving tempest is for ever heard : 
Here the grim tj'rant meditates his wrath ; 
Here arms his winds with all-subduing frost ; 
Moulds his fierce hail, and treasures up his snows, 
With which he now oppresses half the globe. 
• •»••»•»• 

Miserable they 
Who here entangled in the gathering ice. 
Take their last look at the descending sun : 
Wliile full of death, and fierce with tenfold frost. 
The long, long night, incumbent o'er their heads. 
Falls horrible. Such was the Briton's* fate 
As with first prow (what have not Britons dar'd ? ) 
He for the passage sought, attempted since 
So much in vain, and seeming to be shut 
By jealous nature with eternal bars. 
In these fell regions, in Arzina caught. 
And to the stony deep, his idle ship 
Immediate seal'd, he, with his hapless crew, 
Each full exerted to his sev'ral task. 
Froze into statues ; to the cordage glued 
The sailor, and the pilot to the helm." 

On the 9th of June, 1729, there was found in Risley Park, near the site of the ancient Manor House, a 
large silver dish, or salver, of antique basso relievo, and of Roman workmanship. Dr. Stukeley, by whom 
an account of it is given, observes that it was 29 inches long, 15 inches broad, and weighed seven pounds. 
Upon the face were a variety of figures, representing rural sports, employments, and religious rites. It 
stood upon a square base, or foot ; and round the bottom, and on the outside, this inscription was rudely 
cut 'with a pointed instrument in Roman characters of the fourth centur)- : — 


Dr. Stukeley supposed the meaning of this was that it was given by " Exsuperius, Bishop of Bayeux and 
Toulouse in the year 405, to the Church of Bouges ; " near which a battle was fought in 142 1, between 
the Scots, under the Duke D' Alenson, who was quartered in the church, and the English, under Thomas, 
Duke of Clarence, brother to Henry the Fifth, who was slain here. At this time it is supposed to have 
been brought from the church as a trophy and given to Dale Abbey for an ornamentation to the altar there. 
At the time of the dissolution, it was here hidden, probably to prevent the King's inquisitors taking it. 

The object of the various endowments of Risley^ School are described in Tyson's Derbyshire, to be 
" the more comfortable maintenance of a schoolmaster and usher to teach all children of the inhabitants of 
Risley, and the sons only of the inhabitants of Breaston, Sandiacre, Dale Abbey, Stanton near Dale, 
Wilsthorp, Draycote, Little ^^llne, and Hopwell : the boys to be taught to read, write, and cast accounts, 
and so much of trigonometry as relates to the more useful parts of mathematics ; and the head-master to 
teach grammar and the classics to such boys as are qualified and desirous to learn, both masters to be 
constantly resident in the school house. The minister of the chapel appears to have been the head-master 
from the time of Mrs. Grey's foundation. AVe have not been able to learn what is the present value of 
the endowment; but it was returned at ;^ioo per annum in 1787. In the return of charitable donations 
then made to the House of Commons, it is observed that the Grammar School had been a sinecure for many 
years ; that a bill in chancery was filed in Lord Bathurst's time against the master, but it was dismissed." 




ill '■ / // Jim •' ' t V-' 


The Manor of Risley, together with the adjoining one of Breaston (also formerly parcel of the 
Willoughby domain, within the Great Honour of Tutbury,) came by purchase to J. Lewis Fytche, of Thorpe Hall, 
Ks(iuire, High Sheriff of the County of Lincoln, who, as visitor of the Schools, is now in conjunction with the 
Trustees endeavouring to restore them in accordance with the wishes and intentions of the benevolent founders. 

Wc are glad that the historical old site has fallen into the hands of the present proprietor, who, as a 
Fellow of the Society of Antiquaries, is both able and willing to restore and preserve a spot, associated 
with so many venerable events of past generations. 


HIS art was first practised by the late Mr. Henry Moore, Artist, of Derby, who introduced an 
entirely new method of operating upon marble, which is noticed in this relation of the 
progressive improvements he has successively made in the art — an art which has originated in 
this county, discovered and brought to great perfection by a native of it, and practised upon a material 
produced in the county, which is the black marble of Ashford and Bakewell. Many persons have, at 
different times, laid claim to the discovery of this art ; and what is rather curious, those claimants have 
always been young men, while Mr. Moore had jiractised it before they were bom : and although the first 
manner was extremely simple, being merely an etching process, it remained in his own hands many years. 
Being desirous to produce something new in marble, he (as a mere novelty) scratched a sleeping cupid 
u])on a small slab with a dry point, in the manner W'orlidge used that instrument on copper, only reversing 
the use of the scratching, which on the marble produced the lights, while on copper it affected the shades. 
The semitones produced by this process disappeared very soon, and the subject altogether became very 
much deteriorated by a little handling ; he, therefore, did not think proper to pursue so evanescent a system 
of art. Mr. Moore's next plan was to improve the etching department by decomposing the black car- 
bonaceous colouring matter of the marble, to the various degrees of tint required by the subject that may 
be undertaken. He proceeded upon the same princijjle as that of Mezzotinto engraving, viz., from a 
uniform black of the greatest density, to work out the subject, whether ])ortrait, landscape, or flowers. 
This system is also very superior for hieroglyi)hic. aral)es(|ue. and all other kinds of ornament, it brings 
the ground of the ornament (or whatever may be required) to a durable, uniform, and agreeable drab 
colour. The old method produces only a dead black ground, which is whitewashed : so fragile is this 
artificial colouring that every touch injures it, but the drab colour of the imjaroved process will bear washing 
with water, tuqwntine, &c., with which any dirty smearing that may accidentally ha])pen to it may be 
removed ; but such treatment in the other case would bring away the whitewash altogether. His- last and 
most important improvement consists in decomposing the black without destroying the polish of the marble. 
No corrosion of the surface takes ])la(e by this jirocess, and a richness of effect is produced by it, eminently 
superior to the other modes. The circumstance of the i)olish remaining after the operations of this process 
surprises the oldest workers of marble, and is also a puzzler to some great chemists. 




" To Music be the verse adJrest ; 

To Music, soft'ner of the mind, 

And what from woe relieves ; 

'Tis Music lilie the Syren's charms. 

With tend'rest love the bosom warms ; 

But not like them deceives." 

VERY movement which has for its object the social amelioration of the people should be hailed as 
the dawn of a better state of things. The establishment of Mechanics' Institutions, Lyceums, 
and Industrial Exhibitions, should be supported by all, according to their ability. Innocent recreation 
should be extensively diffused, and all exhibitions and games which encourage the anti-social feelings as 
zealously discouraged. We, therefore, approve of the spread of Music Halls over the country, as one of the 
agencies of civilization. Music, both vocal and instrumental, but especially vocal music, aids in refining 
and softening down the asperities of the human breast. 

From the Spartan fife to the music of the modern opera or concert, what a history of the influences 
of sweet sounds might not be written ! 

Shakespeare said wisely — " The man that hath not music in his soul, was fit for stratagems and treasons," 
and it is doubtless true that the finest natures are attuned to sweet sounds. Artistic music, how it can 
aff"ect us ! How the " silver snarling trumpets," or the rolling drums will stir the soldier's heart, how the 
violin will set us leaping to a waltz ; how sometimes it will sadden the thoughtful mind, lull the wearied 
breast, or recal joyous passages in our memor>- of the past ! \Vho has not ere now been led by a tune 
or song to be quite forgetful of persons, place, and time. 

Singing, like everything else, can be carried to excess, until it becomes a burlesque; nevertheless, we 
have always thought that Mr. Haliburton, the lately deceased Member of Parliament, went rather too far, 
when he put into the mouth of " Sam Slick," the following critique on an operatic songstress : — 

( " Now comes singin' ; see what faces she makes ; how she stretches her mouth open, like a barn-door, and turns up the white of 
her eyes like a duck at thunder. She's in a musical ecstacy, is that gal ; she feels good all over ; her soul is a goin' out along with 
that ere music. Oh, it's divine ; and she's an angel, ain't she t Yes I guess she is ; and when I'm an angel, I will fall in love with 

her; but as I'm a man— at least what's left of me— -I'd jist as soon fall in love with one that was a leetle, jist a leetle, more of a 
woman, and a leetle, jist a leetle, less of an angel. :But hallo ! what onder the sun is she about ? Why, her voice is goin' down her 
own throat, to gain strength, and here it comes out as deep-toned as a man's, while that dandy fellow alongside of her is singin' what 
they call falsetter. They've actilly changed voices.? . The gal sings like a man, and that screamer like a woman. This is science — 

this is taste — this is fashion." 

The subject of our present sketch, who has called forth these preliminary remarks, was not a singer 
after Sam Slick's fashion, but one of the most finished and eminent tenor vocalists of his day. And here 
we may as well state, that Derbyshire has had the honour of producing the finest Tenor, (Mr. Harrison,) 
and the best Bass, (Mr. Slack,) of their time ; and both had the honour of giving performances before 
King George the Third. 

Samuel Harrison, the Tenor, was bom at Belper, in the county of Derby, on the 8th of September, 
1760, and died in Percy Street, London, June 25th, 1812, of an inflammation of the bowels, after suffering 
the most excruciating agony for twenty-four hours. He left a widow, two accomplished daughters, and a 
son to mourn his loss. We believe many of his relatives are still alive in the parish where he was born, 
and doubtless have many green spots in their memories of the gifted individual long since passed away. 




Mr. Harrison amidst much excitement and the necessary temptation of a public life, retained and 
maintained strong good sense, integrity of conduct, consistency of purpose, and was just, charitable, 
unostentatious, and possessed of generally amiable qualities. It is especially recorded that he was ever 
ready to assist in everj' way his struggling professional brethren, all of whom highly esteemed him, as did 
also an extensive general acquaintance. If to adhere to what is just, kind, and honourable, throughout a 
lifetime, is the character of a true christian, then Mr. Harrison deserves the title. 

During a quarter of a century Mr. Harrison was the leading Tenor Singer in the kingdom. He greatly 
distinguished himself at the commemmoration of Handel, the celebrated composer, in 1784, in opening the 
" Messiah." Although Mr. Harrison was then a verj' young man, and there were many older competitors 
for this honour, the part was allotted to him, as being equal to the occasion, by command of his Majesty, 
who had, with admiration previously heard him sing it at the Queen's Palace. His correctness and 
efficiency justified the King's discernment that the " right man was in the right place." 

In the performance of the celebrated recitative, or rather Aria Parlaiite, "Comfort ye my people," and 
in the air, " Every valley shall be exalted," he has ever since been considered, by the best judges of 
musical expression, to stand unrivalled ! A perfect intonation ; a peculiar sweetness of voice ; discriminating 
mind ; correct, polished and energetic delivery ; a brilliancy and equability of shake, are requisites in which 
few could approach him. Had his physical powers been equal to his taste, his feelings, and his science, 
he would in all [points have been unrivalled, as a singer of sacred music, at least. His pathetic delivery 
of " Total Eclipse," " Lord remember David," " Oft on a plot of rising ground," and " Gentle airs," the 
last strain he ever sung, (and which was enthusiastically encored) together with other plaintive airs of 
Handel, that do not depend upon noise or confusion for their effect, these have not been forgotten by those 
still alive, whose minds and judgments were capable of appreciating musical excellence. 

Many traditionary relics are floating about the neighbourhoods where his performances were most 
frequent, and his power to move the passions. How he would lead the hearer into a dreamy softness, now 
mounting into a higher and higher flight, until he broke forth .sublime, impassioned, daring. He would 
sometimes captivate by the apparent recklessness of his movements, then enchant by the completeness of 
his performance. In some of Handel's pieces, he would express all passions, rejoice with the glad, and 
weep with the sad. There was nothing that in logical words, which he could not express in musical sound ! 
In listening to him, you were reminded that no jiaradise was ever conceived without music ; and when we 
hear it, we are wrajit into the heaven that i)ure sensation and ardent aff'ection raises up for us here. 

Said we not therefore, that music is a grand civilizational agency, and that to all it may be commended ; 
and we further say, that by it even the selfish may thereby still more enjoy their individuality in the 
abstraction of its beauty, while those who feel and confess the bond of fellowship, will find in vocal music 
a ready way to the hand and heart of social intercourse. 

And surely, we may embalm the memory of those t\vo eminent and fascinating pioneers of this civilizing 
agency, especially as both Messrs. Harrison and Slack have shed some lustre not only on Music, but on 
our native county. 



T a Meeting of the MEASHAM and OAKTHORPE Association held this day, 

The following Declarations, Oath, and Resolutions, were severally read, adopted, signed, and 
the same ordered to be Printed and Distributed. 


I St. '' I ""HAT being convinced it is our duty to assist the Executive Government in protecting our 
J- Laws and Constitution, — We declare that we have enrolled ourselves in this Corps, and 
do confinTi it by signing our Names hereunder, for the protection of Property, and the preservation 
of Tranquility in the Parish of Measham, and Township of Oakthorpc ; and do agree, and abide 
by our former Declaration in assisting ( if necessary ) the Association of Ashby, Packington and 
IVi/ksIey, to quell any Riot, to restore Tranquility in their respective Parishes, when we can leave 
Measham -with propriety, as shall be determined by a Majority of this Association. 

2nd. That it is our detemrination to provoke no one by insult, but in every situation to demean 

ourselves as peaceful Inhabitants, and good Subjects, and, that the World may judge of the purity 
of our intentions, we have severally taken and subscribed the Oath following. 


I — A. B. — do sincerely promise and swear that I will be faithful and bear true Allegiance to 

his Majesty King George, and that I will support the Constitution of my Country as estabhshed 

by Law. 

So help me God. 

I St. That as the most perfect confidence in each other is absolutely essential to the existence and 

prosperity of the Corps, any ten Gentlemen may sign a requisition to the Commanding Officer for 
a Ballot of the whole Corps on any Name which they wish to have erased from the Roll, and 
the Majority on such Ballot shall determine whether the Name shall be retained or erased. 

2nd. That the Corps will ( until a future Regulation shall take place ) meet to exercise every evening 

( Sunday excepted ) at Seven o'Clock by the Cotton Mill Clock at Measham, at the Bowling 
Green at the Union Inn, or such place as shall be appointed by the Association at the time of 
their respective Meetings, and that every Volunteer who does not appear on Parade at the place 
so appointed, shall on his next appearance there forfeit 77iree-pence, unless prevented by sickness 
or lameness. 

3rd. That any Volunteer coming intoxicated to Parade, shall for every offence forfeit One SliilUng. 

4th. That any Gentleman Swearing on Parade, shall for every offence forfeit Threepence. 

5th. That any Gentleman talking during Exercise, except for the purpose of obtaining information 

from his Ofiicer or Serjeant, shall for each offence forfeit Threc-pmce. 

6th. That if any Gentleman who has enrolled, or may hereafter enrol his Name, shall withdraw 

himself from the Corps without previously assigning such reasons as shall in the opinion of a 
Majority of the Corps be deemed sufficient for his so doing, he shall be deemed a Coivard and 
voted to Coventry. 


7th. That every Question subject to the decision of the Coqis ( except such as shall be w-ithin the 

meaning of the ne.xt Resolution ) shall be determined by the Majority present at the time of its 
arising, or at such time as the Majority shall then fix for determining the same. 

8th. That the payment of all Fines supposed to be incurred by all or any of the Volunteers when 

at their Post, shall be determined by the eight Gentlemen nearest on the Right and Left 
Hand of the Person considered liable to pay the same immediately on his being charged with the 
Ufl'cnce subjecting him thereto. 

9th. That every Regulation or Resolution which shall hereafter be thought necessary, either for the 

alteration or improvement of the Rules for the Government of this Corps, shall be given in Writing 
to the Commanding Officer, to be by him read to the Corps on the next Parade for their con- 
sideration, until the same day in the following Week, on which the same shall be so communicated, 
when the Coqjs shall determine as to the adoption or rejection of such Regulation or Resolution 
as originally proposed, or as the same may be then altered. 

loth. That if any Gentleman be absent from the place of Exercise after standing at Ease without the 

permission of the Commanding Officer, when the Drum has beat the Long Roll, he shall forfeit 

nth. That every Volunteer divulging any Transactions of the Corps, that shall by a Majority thereof 

be considered injurious thereto, shall forfeit, and subject himself to the payment of Ten Shillings. 

That being fully sensible of the honour and obligation conferred upon us by the Assiduities of 
the Earl of Moira, in obtaining his Majesty's approbation of our Association, and assisting us in 
the formation of our united Corps of Cavalry and Infantry — We resolve, to be ready on all 
occasions, to act for the Protection of his Lordships Property and Residence at Donington-Park, 
and to Preserve Tranquility there, as if the same were situate within the original limits of our 
Association ; and that a Copy of this Resolution be transmitted by one of our Officers to his 


Tis said, that to the brow of yon fair hill 

Two brothers clomb; and, turning face from face, 

Nor one look more exchanging, grief to still 

Or feed, each planted on that lofty place 

A chosen tree : then, eager to fulfil 

Their courses, like two new-born rivers, they 

In opposite directions urged their way 

Down from the far-seen mount. No blast might kill 

Or blight that fond memorial— the trees grew, 

And now entwine their arms ; but ne'er again 

Embraced brothers upon earth's wide plain, 

Nor ought of mutual joy or sorrow knew. 

Until their spirits mingled in the sea 

That to itself takes all — Eternity. 




HIS ancient relic, of which we give an illustration, was found by the workmen of John Chambers, 

Esq., of Coxbench, near the site of the old castle, at a depth of four feet from the surface, and 

was broken by the carelessness of the men in getting it out. This form of slab was in use from 

the eleventh to the fourteenth century, to mark the resting-place of the dead, and is a good e.\ample of the 

period. How it got into the position where it was found is a mysterj-, as it may reasonably be supposed 

the churchyard was its proper place. No bones were found or human remains discovered near to it. 

Mr. Chambers kindly presented it for our Derbyshire collection some years ago. 


\ the 19th of September, 1861, while some labourers were cutting a drain on the Chester Road, 
Derby, they turned up, at the great depth of thirteen feet, the beautiful specimens illustrated on 
the opposite page. They were embedded in a soft black mud, lying upon the gravel, which 
probably once formed the bed of the river. This beautiful but fragile ware, it is supposed was not made 
in Britain, although great quantities of fragments have been found in various parts of the kingdom, but 
that it was imported by the Romans, and was of considerable value. It is of rare occurrence that a perfect 
specimen is met with, although several may be seen in the British Museum, and also in the Museum of 
Practical Geology. Our specimens have probably each formed a portion of a separate bowl or vase, and 
may have been used by some wealthy Roman about 1500 years ago. 

HE following quaint Inscription has been copied from an Old House at Birchover. 

Man\- a day ix La 
BOUR AND Sorrow I 
Have spent But Now 
I FIND NO Rest is Li 
KE content 

S. P. A. 


^Mffftitfrrt I .»'«*■■ »"i*»M*«' rn-i**! 'VrAi 








[HE vast Cotton Manufacture, whose every movement affects the interests of thousands in Great 
Britain, has literally grown up within the memory of many persons now living, and it is one of 
the most remarkable instances of the success attendant on the energy and perseverance of British 
talent and industry in establishing our national prosperit)-, and rendering us the greatest commercial people 
in the world. 

At a period when the fobrics of other nations superseded our own, when all depended ui)on tlie slow 
and uncertain results of manual o|)erations, Hargreave led the way with his Spinning-jenny ; and the far 
more important inventions of Arkwriglit, who followed closely on his traces, raised the Cotton Manufacture, 
as it were at a bound, to such a pitch of excellence, as to give England an almost exclusive monopoly, the 
result of her superior skill ; an advantage which has been felt in every branch of trade, agriculture, and com- 
merce ; an advantage to which, in short, a great part of our national prosperity may be attributed. It would 
be interesting to trace this progress, and to follow and examine its results, but for the present we must confine 
ourselves to the fortunes of those individuals connected with its establishment in our own county. 

In Matlock Dale, but within the Chapelry of Cromford, the first Cotton Mill in England was erected in 
177 1 (which exhibited anything like a development of the Factory system), by the firm of Arkwright, Strutt, 
and Need. In 1776, another Mill was erected at Belper, towards the south extremity of the valley, and soon 
afterwards a third at Milford, about a mile distant on the same stream. 

In 1781, the i)artnership between Arkwright and .Strutt was dissolved, upon which the former retained the 
works at Cromford, and the latter those at Belper and Milford. Both these gentlemen founded a vast busi- 
ness, still carried on by their descendants, and realized great wealth. We will now trace first, the progress 
of Arkwright, whose riches increased to such an enormous extent, that besides possessing, exclusive of his 
mill property, one of the largest landed estates in England, he was able, on several occasions, to present 
each of his ten children with ten thousand pounds, as a Christmas-box. 


Sir Richard Arkwright was one of those great characters which nature seems to have destined, by tlic 
endowment of superior powers, to be the benefactor of their fellow-creatures. Born of ]wrents who were 
classed among the inferior rank of society, and brought up to one of the most humble occupations in life, 
he yet, by the aid of genius and perseverance, rose to affluence and honour. Richard Arkwright, who was 
the youngest of thirteen children, was born at Preston in Lancashire, sometime in the year 1732. In that 
neighbourhood there was a considerable manufactory of linen goods, and of linen and cotton mixed, carried 
on; and his a<:<|uaintan(-e with the operations he witnessed there, seems, in early life, to have directed his 
thoughts to the improvement of the mode of spinning. This, however, he did not accomplish till many years 
had elapsed; for, prior to the year 1767, he followed his trade, which was that of a barber, but at that 
period, he quitted his original business and situation at Wirksworth, and went about tiie ( ountry, buying hair. 
Coming to Warrington, he projected a mechanical contrivance for a kinil of perpetual motion ; a dock-maker 
of that town, of the name of John Kay, dissuaded him from it, and suggested that much money might be 
gained, by a machine for spinning cotton, which Kay promised to describe. Kay and Arkwright then applied 
to Peter Atherton, Esq., of Liverpool, for assistance in the construction of such a machine, who, di.scouraged 
by the mean apijcarance of the latter, declined, though he soon afterwards agreed to lend Kay a smith and 


watch-tool maker, to prepare the header part of the machine, whilst Kay himself undertook to make the 
clock-maker's part of it, and to instruct the workmen. In this way, Arkwright's first machine, for which he 
afterwards obtained a patent, was made. 

Mr. Arkwright experienced many difficulties before he could bring his machine into use ; and even after 
its completion had sufficiently demonstrated its value, its success would have been for ever retarded, if his 
genius and application had been less ardent. His circumstances were by far too unfavourable to enable 
him to commence business on his own account, and few were willing to risk the loss of capital on a new 
establishment. Having at length, however, the good fortune to secure the co-operation of Mr. Smalley, of 
Preston, he obtained his first patent for spinning cotton by means of rollers, but their property failing, they 
went to Nottingham, and there, <by the assistance of wealthy individuals, erected a considerable cotton-mill 
turned by horses ; but this mode of procedure being found too expensive, another mill was erected at Crom- 
ford, the machinery of which was put in motion by water. 

The patent-right was contested about the year 1772, on the ground that he was not the original inventor; 
however, he obtained a verdict, and enjoyed the patent without further interruption, to the end of the 
term for which it was granted. 

Soon after the erection of the mill at Cromford, Mr. ArkwTight made many improvements in the mode of 
preparing the cotton for spinning, and invented a variety of ingenious machines for effecting this purpose, in 
the most correct and expeditious manner; for all of which he obtained a patent, in the year 1775. The 
validity of this second patent was tried in the Court of King's Bench, in 1781, and a verdict was given 
against him, on the ground of the insufficiency of the specification; but in 1785 the question was again 
tried in the Court of Common Pleas, when he obtained a verdict. This verdict, however, raised up an 
association of the principal manufacturers, who instituted another cause, by writ of scire facias, in the Court 
of King's Bench, when Mr. Arkwright was cast, on the ground of his not being the original inventor. 
Conscious that this was not the case, he moved for a new trial ; the rule, however, was refused, and on 
the 14th of November, 1785, the Court of King's Bench gave judgment to cancel the Letters Patent. 

The improvements and inventions in Cotton Spinning, for which we are indebted to the genius of Sir 
Richard Arkwright, and which complete a series of machinery so various and complicated, are so admirably 
combined, and so well adapted to produce the intended effect in its most perfect form, as to excite the 
admiration of every person capable of appreciating the difficulty of the undertaking. And that all this should 
have been accomplished by the single efforts of a man without education, without mechanical knowledge, 
or even mechanical experience, is most extraordinary, and affords a striking instance of the wonderful powers 
displayed by the human mind, when steadily directed to one object. 

^\^len it is considered, that during this entire period he was afflicted with a grievous disorder (a violent 
asthma) which was always extremely oppressive, and threatened sometimes to put an immediate termination 
to his existence, his great exertions must excite astonishment. For some time previous to his death, he 
was rendered incapable of continuing his usual pursuits, by a complication of diseases, from which at length 
he died, at Cromford, on the Third of August, 1792, in the Sixtieth year of his age. 

He received the honour of Knighthood from his Majesty King George the Third, on the 22nd of De- 
cember, 17S6, on occasion of presenting an address, as High Sheriff of the County of Derby. 


Jedediah Strutt, Esq., the ingenious inventor of the machine for making Ribbed Stockings, was a native 
of South Normanton, where he was bom in the year 1726. His father, who was a farmer and maltster, is 
represented as a severe man, who paid but little attention to the welfare of his offspring, whose education 
he neglected during their early years, and in whose establishment in the world, when arrived at the years 
of maturity, he took no interest. Nature, however, had invested them with understandings superior to those 
of the class of society in which they ranked ; and notwithstanding the many disadvantages under which they 
laboured, their abilities became conspicuous, in their ultimate success and prosperity. This remark is more 
strictly applicable to the subject of the present memoir, Jedediah, the second son, than to either his elder 




or younger brother. Early in life he discovered an ardent desire for his o>vn improvement, which at last 
grew into an habitual and strong passion for knowledge ; and, unassisted by the usual aids for the accjuisition 
of learning, he, by the powers of his own genius alone, acquired a considerable actjuaintance with literature 
and science. 

In the year 1754, Mr. Strutt took a fann at Blackwell, in the neighbourhood of Normanton, and, in 1755, 
married Elizabeth, daughter of William Woollatt, hosier, of Derby. Soon after this, an event occurred, 
which may be considered as the foundation of his future prosperity — it was to him that moment which our 
great poet describes as the 

" Tide in the affairs of men. 
Which, taken at the flood, le.ids on to fortune." 

Mr. William Woollatt, his wife's brother, who was a hosier, infoniied him of some unsuccessful attempts that 
had been made to manufacture ribbed stockings on the stocking-frame, which excited his curiosity, and 
induced him to investigate that curious and complicated machine, with a view to effect what others had 
attempted in vain. After much attention, labour, and expense, he succeeded in bringing the machine to 
perfection, and, in the year 1756, in conjunction with his brother-in-law, obtained a jiatent for the invention, 
and removed to Derby, where he established an extensive manufacture for ribbed stockings. 

About the year 1771, Mr. Strutt entered into jjartnership with Sir Richard Arkwright, who was then en- 
gaged 'in the improvement of his machinery for cotton spinning.* But though the most excellent yarn, or 
twist, was produced by this ingenious machinery, the prejudice which often oijjioses new inventions was so 
strong against it, that the manufacturers could not be prevailed upon to weave it into calicoes. Mr. Strutt, 
therefore, in conjunction v/ith Mr. Samuel Need, another partner, attempted the manufacture of this article, 
in the year 1773, and proved successful; but, after a large quantity of calicoes had been made, it was dis- 
covered that they were subject to double the duty (viz. Sixpence per yard) of cottons with linen waqj, and 
when printed, were prohibited. They had therefore no other resource, but to ask relief of the legislature, 
which, after great expense, and a strong opposition from the Lancashire manufacturers, they at length 

Mr. Strutt, after' residing for a few years at Belper and Milford, removed to Derby, where the first English 
calicoes were made, and the first fire-proof mill ever built was erected ; the floors lieing all constructed on 
biick arches, and ])aved with brick. The building remains, but has long ceased to have any connec- 
tion with cotton. Derby has since been the main centre of the commercial operations of the firm, and 
Beli)er of their factories. Mr. Strutt died in 1797, in the seventy-first year of his age, and was succeeded by 
his three sons, William, George, and Joseph, all now deceased. They had been associated with their 
father in his great concerns ; conducted them afterwards with progressive enterjjrise, intelligence, and success ; 
and were alike distinguished for literary taste and liberality of feeling. The works are still carried on by 
their descendants, and give emjiloyment to great numbers of the working in Belper and Milford. 

Edward Strutt, the present head of the firm, now a peer, with the title of Lord Belper, was born at 
St. Helen's, Derby, in 1801, and educated at Cambridge, where he took the degree of Master of Arts. He 
entered Parliament as Member for his native town, took part in the stormy debates of the first Reform Bill, 
and soon afterwards married Emily, daughter of Dr. Otter, Bishop of Chichester. He hekl ofiice from 1846 
to 1848, as Chief Commissioner of Railways; again, as Chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster, from January, 
1853, to June, 1854; and was created a Peer in August, 1856. 

May the works long remain, and be sustained with all the vigour, enterprise, and skill of its origmal 
founders, whose family name is known wherever English cotton goods find a sale, and, stamped. upon the 
great bale, is a suflicient iiassjiort for it. 

• When Arkwright applied to .Mr. Slrutt, the machines were ni\ich embarrassed by llie fibres of the wool sticking to the roller. 
This circumstance greatly annoyed Mr. Arkwright ; and it is said that Mr. Strutt engaged to remove the evil, on condition of 
participating equally in the profits. They repaired to the mill, when, Mr. Strutt taking a lump of chalk out of his pocket, and 
a|)plying it to the roller, the defect was instantly removed. 



We believe the origin of the cotton manufactory at Darley, was through Mr. Arkw-right recommending its 
erection to the late Mr. Thomas Evans and his Son, saying they would do well with it. The Messrs. Evans 
accepted his advice, and wshed him to take a share in the undertaking, which Mr. ArkwTight wllingly agreed 
to do. On their getting the mill to work, in the year 1783, and finding it to answer their expectations, Mr. 
Arkwright was asked what share he proposed to take ; he ver>' generously replied, that he did not wish to 
take any share, but as it was a good thing, they might make him a compliment of one hundred pounds, and 
he would give them a full release ; which was immediately done, and the money very gladly paid. 

The family of Evans had its rise in the reign of William and Mary, by the marriage of Anthony Evans, 
of Winster, with Hannah, co-heiress of Edmund Feme, a considerable lando's^Tier of Bonsall. The late Mr. 
Thomas Evans was a Banker, and for many years County Treasurer; he died in 18 14, at the advanced 
age of 91, possessed, it is said, of a large fortune. Walter Evans, his son, who died in the year 1839, was 
associated with him in the Darley Mills, and built Darley Church and some private schools, all of which 
were erected at his own cost. William Evans, of Allestree Hall, who died in the year 1856, was a Member 
of Parliament for North Derbyshire, having been previously returned for the Borough of Retford, and also 
for Leicester ; his parliamentary services extending over a period of about thirty years. This gentleman was 
High Sheriff for the County of Derby in 1829, and was an active magistrate, and often chairman of religious 
and other public meetings in the county; and his son, Thomas William Evans, is now one of the Members 
for the Southern Division of the County, and Chairman of the Quarter Sessions. 

The mills are still carried on in the name of the original founders, and afford emplo}Tnent to a consider- 
able number of workpeople, who reside in the neighbourhood ; and the Boar's Head Cotton Thread, produced 
at these works, is now extensively known and appreciated, both at home and abroad. 


The Parish of Glossop, situated amongst the most mountainous tracts of the High Peak, has become one 
of the most important seats of the Cotton Manufacture in Derbyshire. In the latter part of the last century, 
there was but one mill in the district, and that was employed in grinding the scanty crop of oats into meal, 
for the food of a few agricultural inhabitants. The late Samuel Oldknow was one of the earliest manu- 
facturing settlers in this vicinity; he found a powerful stream coursing its way through a deep dell, and 
instantly perceived the advantages to be derived from it. Having established himself near Mellor, his 
example and success in business soon procured him many neighbours. The first mill built by Mr. Oldknow 
was upon the Arkwright principle, but he improved the fineness of the cotton threads, and applied it to the 
weaving of British muslins in the power loom. Mr. Oldknow was High Sheriff for the County of Derby, 
in the year 1824, and was ever active in public pursuits; and towards the close of his useful existence he 
occupied himself much in agriculture. At his lamented death, which happened in September, 1828, he 
left the valley of Glossop improved in its agricultural produce, as well as enriched by manufacture ; and it 
may be also said, that what he found a desert, he left comparatively a city and a garden. 

We will now conclude our memoirs of Derbyshire inventors and founders of Cotton Machinery, by 
giving a brief sketch of William Radcliffe, the inventor of the Dressing Machine ; extracted from a small 
volume, published by Mr. Bennett Woodcroft, F. R. S.* 


"The originator of the dressing machine, was born on the 17th of October, 1761, at Mellor, Derbyshire. 
His boyhood was spent in carding, spinning, or in winding for the looms of his father and brothers ; and 
when his legs had grown long enough to feel the treddles, he was placed on a loom to operate with it himself. 
In his twenty-fourth year he commenced business on his own account as a spinner and weaver, and about 

• Brief Biographies of Inventors of Machines for the Manufacture of Textile Fabrics. By Bennett Woodcroft, F.R. S. 
London : Longman & Co. 








1794 his chief trade was in muslin warps, sized and ready for the loom, and in the manufacture of muslins 
for the Manchester market 

About this period it was only possible for a weaver to dress — or starch — so much of the warp at once as lay 
between the healds and yam beam, or about 36 inches; and he was settled but a short time at the loom, weaving 
this portion, before he was again obliged to dress another similar length, and so on from the beginning 
to the end of his work for months together, and by this continual interruption of one process by a different 
one, much time was lost, and the work was imperfectly performed. Mr. Radcliffe's first improvement 
consisted in sizing or dressing the whole of the warp before it was wound ui)on the beam, which removed 
the grand difficulty in the art of weaving ; the labour of the weaver was now uninterrupted, his attention 
was drawn to one jwint only ; the art could be taught to a youth in the course of a few days, and its 
practice was so simple and light as to make it the employment of women and children. 

In 1794, two foreign merchants, who had occasionally purchased Radcliffe's muslins, were desirous 
of buying some of his cotton yarn for exportation to the continent, where it was to be manufactured 
into cloth. Mr. Radcliffe, from a patriotic sentiment, considered the interest of the country was sacrificed 
by the exportation of yam, and that all the advantage derived from our greater skill in spinning should 
be kept to ourselves, and therefore ' piece goods ' only should be exported. He refused to sell his yam 
to his foreign customers, urging, besides, that it was illegal to export yam as being an unmanufactured 
material ; to this they replied that its exportation was not unlawful, as they had at that time bought yam 
in Manchester, which they shijjped at Hull for foreign parts without impediment. 

During the five following years, although Mr. Radcliffe had not sold a ])ound of yarn for foreign use, 
he had the mortification to observe its export increase from year to year. The trade at length had become 
so extensive, that the manufacturers of cloth, alamied at what might be its future conse(iuences to them- 
selves, began to agitate for an application to Parliament to prohibit the export of cotton twist. At a 
public meeting held at Stockport in 1800, Mr. Radcliffe suggested that with the same number of hands 
then employed in weaving, they might, by a division of labour, and the invention of some process to be 
substituted for the ordinary methods of dressing, produce a much greater amount of work, and consume all 
the surplus yam at that moment sjuui for export. In conclusion, he undertook to devote his attention 
and exertions to those improvements, on condition that the gentlemen jiresent at the meeting would, in 
the event of his success, pledge themselves to aid in procuring the desired prohibition of the export of 
cotton twist 

The sole management of his concerns at Mellor, Mr. Radcliffe left to his partner, Mr. Ross ; and 
he purchased premises at the Hill Gate, Stockport, with the intention of placing in them just so much 
machinery as would supply the looms with yarn. In January, 1802, he commenced his operations in the 
new factory, and before the end of the month he began to divide the labour of the weaver, employing one 
room to dress the whole web in, to be ready for the looms in another room ; ' and, in going on, it was 
found that by weaving the web, as it were, back again, the weft was driven up by the reed in the direction 
in which the brushes had laid the fibres down with the paste ; and good cloth could be made in the upper 
room with the dressed yarn (|uite dry, whit h could not be done in the old way, when the weft was driven 
up against the point of its fibres ; which showed the reason why all weavers are obliged to work in itamp 
cellars, and must weave up their dressing about a yard long before the yarn becomes quite dry, or it spoils.' 

By a mechanism, contrived by his ingenious assistant, Thomas Johnson, a weaver of Bradbury, that 
derived its motion from the lathe, the cloth was taken up as it was woven, so that the sheet was aKva)s 
of the same dimension ; and the vibrations of the lathe extending to an equal distance, the . blow, or 
stroke, was so uniform that the cloth proiluced was more even in texture than could possibly be woven in 
the usual way, except by very .skilful weavers ; and finally the web was formed at once from the bobbins, 
and in its progress was properly disposed, arranged, sized, dressed, and wound upon the beam ; the various 
processes forming only one operation. 'Some difficulties had yet to be overcome; and it was only by 
dividing the warp, half the dry beams on one side, and half on the other, so as to have the yarn thin in 
the brushes, that this noiseless, simple dressing machine became complete.' 



Patents granted for the ' taking up ' motion, and for the dressing machine, were obtained in the name 
of Thomas Johnson, mentioned above, in order, according to Mr. Radchffe, to prevent foreign manufacturers 
becoming acquainted with the inventions. 

Mr. Radchffe exerted himself to the utmost to introduce his system into general use; but the great 
expenses he incurred in experiments, added to what he imagined to be ' the detennined hostility of the 
exporters of cotton yarn,' brought him into difficulties, which, in 1807, ended in bankruptcy. After this 
event, four friends lent him ^^500 each, and with the ^2000 he recommenced business, and carried it on 
prosperously until 1815, when he again became embarrassed, in consequence, as the patriotic spinner 
thought, of his opposition to some measures advocated by his old enemies, the exporters and their friends. 
But his conscientious perseverance in opinion, distracting his attention from his private concerns, is suffi- 
cient to account for the misfortunes that pursued him. 

The present Incumbent of Mellor states that Mr. Radcliffe, at one period of his life, perfonned the 
duties of parish clerk at Mellor. 

His style of writing may be seen, and a little insight into his character obtained, by the perusal of the 
following letter to Mr. Samuel Radclifife, cotton spinner, Stockport, penned by him on the subject of 
spinning; the original is in the possession of the writer. 


' Set the middle roller so as to gain upon the back in the least possible degree — this is the A B c of good spinning which 
can never vary under any circumstance, or any sort of cotton. 

The next which may be cal^ the a B nd of a young spinner, which can /u-7vr vary, is that the spindles never gain 
upon the delivering rollers more than just to keep the thread tiglit, but without in the least attempting to draw the thread 
finer, until the delivery stops, when a rc-al practical good spinner can so humer the degree of twist, that the carriage may 
go on for 4, 5, 6, or 7 inches according the numbers of his twist, say 40, 50, 60, or 70s & this without breaking a thread 
if the roving are even &= good. This yarn can never fail to be what is cald the first quallity, fit for dying — for the first rate 
warps for cambric muslins — good shirtings — or what is now cald Power Loom Twist. But without this precise process no 
first rate mule yam EVER was, or ever can be made ! However there is something so delicate in tlie nicety of this manage- 
ment that a learner should first drink deep in practical knowledge before he attempts to touch this pircnial spring, or else 
his 'little learning will be a dangerous thing.'' Therefore (until his experience has qualified him to do it) he may make 
a tolarable second article by runing the carrage out, & twist it at the head without attempting to draw it any finer than as 
delivered by the front rollers. 

That the above are the nnvariablc foundations of good spinning which like the Laws of the Medes & Persions alter not, 
I challeng the first spinners in the trade to contradict me, & will risk all I have left (my honour) on the result & throwing 
down my glove in confidence no one dare take it up, I subscribe myselfe — An old practical spinner. 

Octr. 6th, 1829.' Will. Radcliffe. 

He lived twenty-seven years in very straitened circumstances, and died, in his eighty-first year, at 
Mill Gate Hill, Stockport, May 18, 1842, and was buried in Mellor Church-yard." 


FEW years ago, Lord and Lady Palmerston visited her Ladyship's estates in Derbyshire, and as 
it was known all over the kingdom that the Premier would ha\'e to respond to a complimentary 
address, about twenty reporters, representing most of the principal journals, visited Melbourne. 
Lord Palmerston was informed of the presence of the gentlemen of the press before the opening of the 
meeting, and being told that an important speech was expected from him. he said, " Well, I am sorry for 
the gentlemen who have come so far for nothing ; tell them what Canning once told a deputation who 
asked him for a manifesto, ' Cabinet Ministers are like fishes ; they drink a good deal, and say verj- little.' " 



Impr. Pd. for Taking ye old. accompts ------ 

Pd. for Ale att Taking ye old accompts - - • - 

Decemb. Pd. John Oldfeild a third part of a high constable warrand - 

Detcmb. 29th. Pd. a high constable warrand ------ 

For goeing to Chesterfeild and being sworn ----- 

Pd. for a warrand for ye highways ------ 

For carrying a woman to headge with a pass - - - . - 

'Given to seven Souldgears ------- 

Given to a Seaman - - - - 

Spent att Alfreton when I went to speak to ye constable 

Spent att Anne Shores upon two Souldjears - - - - - 

To t^vo guides with lanterns and candles with ye Souldiers to higham 

Pd. for candles to Lite them - - 

For carrieing five Souldjears wifes to higham in a cart and other bagge 

Given to them fi\e women ------- 

t'ebr. Pd. Mr. Newton for a man and two horses to Chesterfeild with ye Souldjears 

Pd. Wm. Harvey for a man and two horses to Chesterfeild ye same time 
Pd. Peter Kendall for a man and two horses to Chesterfeild ye same time - 
Pd. Hugh Bruckshaw for a man and two horses to Chesterfeild ye same time 
Pd. a guide with ye other carridge to Chesterfeild - - - - 

Pd. James Taylor for his mare to Chesterfeild 2s. and her charge there 6d. - 
Pd. Hugh Bruckshaw for a mare with souldjears another time 
Given to a passenger id. and for a hue an cry to headge 2d. 
To six or seven for staying by old webster at ye watef side and for canning 
him to ye church ---.... 

For goeing to pentridge and higham about old Webster 

Pd. ye crowner his fees about old Webster ----- 

For goeing to ye crowner ---.... 

Given to a souldjear & two other passingers ----- 

For going with a hue and cry to critch & another to liigham 
Given three passengers 3d. and to a souldjear and two other men 3d. 
Pd. to Tho. Pursglove for stone for ye highways - - . - 

Pd. Tho. Brailsford upon ye hi^ways accompts & going twice to Chesterfeild 
Pd. Joseph Webster for goeing to Chesterfeild - . - - 

" Given to a souldjear and his wife ------ 

Pd. for writing ye duplicate for ye land tax . - - - - 

Pd. to Josej)h Farnsworth u])on ye highways accompts 

For writing three assessments ...... 

For gathering eight levis ....... 

Pd. Wm. Harvey for 13 Ld. of stone for ye highways 

For writeing and keeping accompts ----- 









































































































George Alton his recepts 
his Disbursements - 

£ s. d. 

8 6 4j 

08 oO 4^ 

out of pockit 

3 H 




lAST agencies have beefl at work to conquer and civilize our globe — War, with its vigorous dis- 
cipline, relieving massacre and desolation with the spread .'of useful arts — Oratorj', with the force 
of speech and gesture, to* inspire the popular will — the Fine Arts, Painting, Sculpture^ and 
Architecture, to exalt human pursuits ; but of all these agencies, perhaps none is so readily capable of 
diffusion and quickening effect, as Music, combined with Poetry : in short, the song, united with the 
chorus, appears admirably adapted to impress, in^irit, and harmonize the human race. How many tears 
were shed — how many bosoms glowed and thrilled — when the " Tipies " correspondent wrote home from the 
Crimea, the fact of our soldiers, amid the rigours and miseries of the trenches, inspiriting themselves by 
singing in chorus, " Annie Laurie ! " or of the Federal soldiers marcliing into battle, to the song of " Old 
John Brown !" , 

The ancient law-givers understood this sentiment, and we read, that by means of the sOTig they made 
their first inroads upon barbarism. Polybius writes, that the Arcadians, who inhabited a cold and inhospi- 
table country, could only be civilized through the medium of music; while, on the other hand, the 
inhabitants of C>Tietus, who neglected the culture of music, surpassed in cruelty all the rest of the Greeks. 
Athenffius assures us, that the promulgation of laws, both human and divine, the knowledge of all that 
related to the gods, heroes, and the deeds of illustrious men, were written in verse, and publicly sung, 
accompanied by instruments. The invention of these, also, was attributed to the gods ; Mercury, as he 
walked along the banks of the Nile, struck his foot against the shell of a tortoise, whose cartilages, by 
desiccation, had become sonorous. Hence, so says the fable, the origin gf the lyre. To Minerva is assigned 
the invention of the flute. The muses, originally, were said to be simply a troop of singers, in th#ser\-ice of 
the Eg)ptian religion. Bacchus was the inventor of theatrical harmonies and schools of music. All the 
principal early musicians, Amphion, Chiron, Orpheus, and Linus, were equally poets and real benefactors 
of mankind. So far the records of antiquity, wherein the vocation of music appears to have been to make 
inroads upon barbarism, while the callif^ of modem song is to conqv*er civilization itself; that is, to perfect, 
adapt, and harmonize all existing discordant relations between man and his fellow, wherever situated, by 
the potent energies of well-devised songs, adapted to all narions, and cognizant alone of the universal 
benevolent principles of nature. * . ' ^ ^ 

As one of the humble means of diffusing this form of civilization, do we claim Mr. Samuel Slack, of 
Tideswell, Derbyshire. At a period in our history, when refi*eri!ent was less common than now, «nd brutal 
sports were the rule, and not the exception, the subject of our notice, by his magnificent rendering of some 
of the sublime compositions of Handel, Haydn, Mozart, and others, weaned piany people from vicious 
indulgences, and contributed so far to awaken in many a household, higher and purer aspirations. He was 
especially great in oratorios, and recitative music, and' performed "with great success at the principal musical 
festivals held in London and the provinces. His minstrelsy was of such a commanding kind, that it not 
only humanized and melted,, but kindled the human hearty Many of his vocahstic displays, in the various 
towns and villages in which he was engaged, gave fitful respites to drudgery, as well as gratified the finer ' 
tastes ; he made many a crowded audience pause, while he thrilled them with one of the fine old ballads-^ 
those pleasing things which have sweetened the air of common life for a hundred years, and are even now 
fragrant and fresh as hawthorn buds. 

"The Reporter," of July 7th, 1S31, gives thS following incidents, which are worthy of perpetuation: 

" The amateurs of a choir of singers near Chesterfield, united with a few others, have at their expense, caused a stone to 
be erected in the Churchyard of Tideswell, to perpetuate the memory of the late Samuel Slack, who died August the loth, 1822, 






_> <^ <-_ 




aged 65 years. The monument is well executed, and bears a suitable inscription, and does great credit to the artist. A number 
of years had elapsed, and no mark pointed out the place where his remains were deposited, who for extensive powers of voice, 
as well as sujicrior judgment in the science of music, had no equal, except tlie celebrated vocalist " Meredith." The wonderful 
vocal iKjwers of the late S. .Slack were first noticed by the Duchess Geoi^lana of Devonshire, who had him placed under the 
tuition of the great master, "Spofforth," under whom he cultivated his talent with so much success, as to procure him engage- 
ments at all the great musical festivals in England and Scotland, and they who have had the pleasure of hearing him perform 
in the srnLiME compositions of his favourite, Handel, will readily acknowledge the vacuum in the chorus department, occasioned 
by his loss." 

The following is a copy of the inscription referred to, which was inscribed upon his gravestone. 


As a tribute of respect to the Memory of 

This stone was erected by the voluntary contributions of the 

Barlow Choir, and a few other admirers of that 

noble deep-toned melodist. 

Who Died August lolh, 1822, 

Aged 65 Years. 

t "I know that my Redeemer liveth, and that 

He shall reign for ever and ever." ^ 


It is as a vocalist that Samuel Slack is entitled to remembrance ; a qualification which, had tie lived . 
in our days of wide spread musical taste and talent, would have made him conspicuous. We are sorry 
that we cannot bestow those enconiimis on him as a man which he received as a vocalist. He was 
addicted to some of the low tastes of the day, and also an inveterate lover of the pot and the pipe. He did 
not possess much delicacy in the choice of his company, nor .was he very elegant in his conversation. 
But to comment upon this would be superfluous, as his tastes, education, and habits, were the result of 
poverty of his early days, confirmed by the too frequent example set him by those who having fewer 
excuses were still more guilty. 

His infirmities were shared by the Drydens, Popes, Savages, and Bums' of the time ; and every person 
of sense and gratitude will excuse them. The imperfections of the man, for which he was answerable to 
God, were sunk in his goodness of heart, love of truth, and in the fact that he was never anybody's 
enemy but his own. 

There ' are but scant memorials of his early days, or of his first appearance in public as a singer, but 

of him it can be truly said — 

" Slack, when first he struck the lovm, 
Possess'd no slender musical renown ; 
Science his early song with meaning grac'd. 
And practice soon improved his native taste." 

We close the paper with the following anecdotes — 

Slack was once commanded to sing ^efore His Majesty King George the Third, and after he had 
retired from the Royal presence, one of the Lords, in waiting was directed to inform him how much His 
Majesty had been pleased with his singing. " O," says Slack, " /fe w'er pleased, war he i Ah, I knowkl 
1 could dowt." 

When Slack attended the Musical Festivals, he never cared to associate with the other singers after the 
performances, but would enter some low* pot-house, and with his pipe and glass enjoy himself after his 
own fashion. His habits, as already observed, were rather dissipated, and his manners uncouth. It is 
related of him, that after one of his debauches he turned into a field and lay down to sober himself He 
had not been long there, however, when a bull in Ihe field saw him and turned him oVer, apparently to 
see if he was alive ! Slack awoke, and when he became conscious of the savage customer he had to 
deal with, he bellowed out such uncouth sounds in his deepest voice, that the bull fairly turned tail and 



" Not a flowet 
But shows some touch, in freckle, streak, or stain, • ' • 

Of his unrivalled pencil. He inspires 
• Their balmy odours, and imparts their hues, 

»And bathes their eyes with nectar, and includes. 
In giains as countless as the sea -side sands, 
The forms with which he sprinkles all the earth. 
Happy who wafks with him ! whom what he finds 
Of flavour "or of scent in fruit or flower. 
Or what he views of beautiful or grand 

In nature, from the broad majestic oak • 

^ To the green blade that twinkles in the sun, • 

Prompts with remembrance of a present God." 

F the admiration of the beautiful things of nature has a tendency to soften and refine character, 
the culture of them has a still more powerful and abiding influence. It takes the form of an 

affection; the seed which we have nursed, the tree of our planting, under whose shad© we sit 
with delight, are to us as living loving friends. In proportion to the care we have bestowed 'on them, is 
the warmth of our regard. They affe also gentle and persuasive teachers of His goodness who causeth 
the sun to shine, and the dew to fall ; who forgets not the tender buried vine amid the ice and snows of 
winter, and bringeth forth the plant, long hidden from the eye of man, into vernal splendour, or autumnal 

What a relaxation is a garden from the excitement of business or the exhaustion of study. Here our 
summer evenings are spent in carefully tending and watering our . favourite trees and flowers, in which 
occupation we find a double benefit — relieving the mind from all business thoughts, and in furnishing us 
with sufiicient bodily exercise, after being confined to a close room during the day. 

Lord Bacon describes a garden as the purest of human pleasures, and as providing the greatest 
refreshment to the spirit of man. "The breath of flowers," he continues, "is far s<veeter in the air 
(where it comes and goes like the warbling of music) than in the hand. Therefore nothing is more fit 
for this delight than to know what be the flowers and plants that <Xo best perfume the air." And he 
then gives us a glinips? of his own especial favourites. " The flower, which, above all others, yields the 
sweetest smell in the air is the violet j next to that is the mi^k-rose ; then the strawberry-leaves, dying 
with a most cordial smell ; then sweet-briar ; then wall-flowers, which are very delightful to be set under 
% parlour or lower chamber window. But those which perfume the air most delightfully, not passed by 
as the rest, but being trodden upon and crushed, are three : that is burnet, wild thyme, and water-mints ; 
therefore you are to set whole alleys of them, to have the pleasure when you walk or tread." Truly, this 
is garden epicureanism in its glory. 

Pope, in one of his letters, says, " I am in my garden, amused and easy : this is a scene where one 
finds no disappointment." 

Let us all try to make the great garden of the world all the more beautiful, by promoting the 
excellence of the_ little gardens contained in it. 

O (Q 

< or 

a: li. Hi 


^ Z z 


























Grant of Land in DERiivsHiRE, from Roger of Bromfion, Parson of thf. Church of Bradley, 
TO William of Hertinton, and Margery his Wife. Temp. Richard II. 

N'OW all men present and to come That wee Roger of Brojnpton Parson of -f Church of Bradley 
and William Marsham.have given graunted and by this our -present writinge have confirmed to 
William de Hertington and Margery his wife their heires iand assignes All the lands and tenements 
meadowes feedings and pastures .\v"' all theif ajipurtcnances which we of late had of y"-' guifte and feofmcnt 
of y'= said William of Hertinton in y' towne and irt y"= feilds of Hertinton. To have and to hold afl y" fore 
said lands and tenements meadowes feedings and pastures w"' all their appurtenaiucs to y* fore said William 
of Hertinton and Margery his wife their heires and assignes free quietly well wholy and peaceablie of y* 
.cheife lord of y* fee for y° services therefore due and of right accustomed ; and we the fore said Roger apd 
\Villiam of Marsham all y* fose said lands and tenements meadowes feedings and pastures w* all their ajj- 
purtenances to y" fore said William of Hertinton and Margery his wife their heirs and assigns against all, 
people shall warrant and for ever defend. In witness whereof to this our present writinge we^ hav* put our 
scales, their being witnesses J«hn of Golbone, William. of Cawajdin, Nicholas de Pepne, Phillipp of Hertin 
ton, David of Malpas and others. '" Dated, at Hertinton y"" Sunday next before y" feast of Sf. (jcorge , y'^ 
Marter In y' yeare of y" Raigne of King Richard y° Second after y"" conquest y*-" Thirteenth. 

Grant from William^oulbeari^ oj' Bradeley, Derbyshire, to John of Hodgnett, of all his 


O all Cxian peo])le to whome this .presente wryting shall come William Coulbeard of liradeley, 
Clarke send greeting in o' lord. Know ye arid every of you that I have'solde to John of Hodgnelt 
for a certen fine of' money to me before hand paide all _my goods moveable and immoveable 
wheresoever they bee within the Mannor ot Brjdeley or otherwise reteyning and have given to y' saide 
John all "y" trees growing uppon all the Lands and tenements which the saitle John doth-holde in the 
Mannor of Bradeley for the tenne 9L my life out of my guifte for his goodwill howsoever to him antl his 
heires and asstgnes as they shall thynke most exjiedient while I live to cut downe and convert to his own 
use without the challenge or leU of me or •of aine other .whatsoever. In witness whereof to this present 
writinge I 'have put my scale, Theire being witnesses Jolv of WhiteroCk; William of \Volseley and "Richard 
of Mould of Bradeley, Jolm Clarke of the same, Nicholas de la Donne and others dated at Bradeley on 
Saturdaie next after the feast of the Circumsitiofi of our Lord, In the yere of the raigne of King Ldwanl 
y" (TourteeiUh. 




E are now about to introduce to the reader another Bf our representative men : — a self-made man, 
who has forced his way upwards and onwards in defiance of difficulties, such & a son of the 
working-class too often encounters, until now his name is as familiar as a " household word " to 
most of the inhabitants of Nottingham. 

Richard Birkin, the subject of this notice, was born at Belper, on the ^th day of July, 1805, and was 
the eldest son of Rkhard and Hannah Birkin of that town. His parents were in humble circumstances, 
but were worthy people : and their means being limited, he was at an early age sent to work, and conse- 
quently had but little time for any other education than such as he could obtain after his day's labour.. 
He continued under the parental roof until the age of seventeen, and left home in the year 1822, to seek 
his fortmne in the neighbouring county of Nottingham^ and found a suitable location in the Milage of 
New Basford, where he subsequently became proprietor of one of the largest anil " b^st-conducted estab- 
lishments in the place. We extract the follo\nng from an article furnished by Thomas Bailey, Esq., to 
fhe Nottingham Mercury of December 14th, 1849, from which it will be seen at that date he had with much 
credit to himself, obtained an important position. The writer says : " New Basford, which contains,' I 
suppose, something more than 3000 persons, is essentially a new place, a creation, as it were, of yesterday. 
Its popukition, with the exception of the junior portion, are almost all, by birth and lineage, (few of theiti 
being natives of the parish,) strangers to one another. They are, indeed, a, new people ; their houses are 
new, their employment, for the 'most part, new. The rise ajd progress of many persons in this hamlet 
from poverty to wealth,* of some from the condition of humble operatives to that of master manufacturers, 
magistrates, and leading members of municipal corporations; is alike curious and instructive. Mr. Birkin, 
the principal manufacturer in' tlie place,- and at the present time mayor of Nottingham, is an excellent 
representative of the class to which he belongs, and from which he has sprung-; ^ewd, skilful in the 
management of his affairs, intelligent in all matters of worldly business, of indefatigable industry, and 
indomitable perseverance in the pursuit of an)? and everj' object he deems worthy of attainment He 
combines with these important elements of commercial and manufacturing success, a high and irreproach- 
able character for integrity, morality, and an honourable and conscientious discharge of all the relative 
duties of social and domestic life. In thus sketching the character of Mr. Birkin as it presents itself to 
my mind, I confess that I am less* solicitous to exhibit him under any peculiarly favourable aspect as aii 
indi\idual, than to pour&ay the class to which he belongs through a true representative medium." 

^\^len the Great ^Industrial Exhibition was held in London, during the year 185 1, Mr. Birkin was 
selected as one of the jurors for lace on behalf of Nottingham, and also held the same office during the 
Exhibition of 1S62, and was also reporter for that article on both occasions. In i855!he was again chosen 
mayor for the borough, and ap])ointed a magistrate for the county, and also for the toww. shortly after* 
In 1862 and 1863 he again filled the office of chief magistratfe ; and in 1864, shortly after the termination 
of his fqurth mayoralty, the magistrates and members of the town coimcil presented him with a magnificent 
epergne and candelabrum combined, bearing the following inscriptior^: — 


, As a token of their appreciation of the valuable and important services rendered 

during his respective mayoralties, " 

In 1850, 1855, 1862, and 1863. 
Feb. 17, 1864. 

, ■/' 


> « I ■ 

llfuVf .i ,-■>. •^tft/t ' f>ic» 



The presentation took place in th# Towti Hall, in the presence of the subscribers ami their friends, 
when William Parsons, Esq., the mayor, addressed the assembly in these words : — 

Gentlemen,- -As I have the honour to occupy the chair yi this occaiion, and to become, as it were, your mouthpiece, I 

must in Uie ^t place ask your very kind indulgence, if 1 should fail to express myself in that efficitnt and elo(|uent manner, 

and in tnose terms of kindness and esteem towards Mr. iJirkin, that it is your desire I should do, and which would have Ijcen 

the case if a better selection of chairman had been made. (No, no.) We are not met on this occasion to pay a mere 

empty compliment, but we are assembled to confer a visible token not only of our approbation, but of our esteem and regard, 

upon a gentleman for the very energetic and the very valuable services that he has- rendered to the town on many occasions 

whilst in -the discharge of various public duties. (Hear, hear.) Gentlemen, — To enlarge upon the manner in which Mr. Birkin 

his attained. to his present honourable position amongst u% would be to offend alike the delicacy of his feelings and our good 

taste ; but the occasion itself demands that I should, however briefly, yet with truth and without flattery, touch upon those salient 

points in his character and conduct which have won for Mr. Birkin your esteem and admiration. (Hear, hear, and cheers.) 

Cradled in the lap of laborious industry', without any extraneous assistance beyond^he natural and Iroble gifts of a clear head, 

an upright heart, and a willing right hand, Mr. Birkin has achieved for himself that position to which he has now attained,. 

and he stands before us a fine sj^cimen of the persevering, true English character, and a strong exemplification of the blessings 

of that free constitution of England — (hear, hear) — under which we all have the pride and privilege to live: (Cheers.) We 

saw him not idly waiting for the blessings of the British constitution to be showered upon him, but his desire has been to 

achieve them by his ovm exertions. (Hear, hear.) We have seen him the laborious artizan — we have seen him emerge into 

the industrious and skilled mechanic, — and we have seen him rise step by step, and ascend gradually in the social 

scale, becoming a manufacturer, a merchant, and a capitalist, his mental education, also .self-acquired, developed by mental 

training, and expanding with his temporal prosperity, and, to his great honomr be it said, rising equal to every occasion. 

(Applause.) Talents like these, gentlemen, and their justly-earned reward, might have been enjoyed by their possessor as "a 

miser hugs his gold ; but such enjoyment, although it might have excited the Aivy and admiration of many, would never have 

won for him any testimonial of public applause. Such, however, has not been the case with Mr. Birkin. (Cheers.) His 

talents and abilities have ever been placed at the service of the public. We havi; seen him taking an active part as a member 

of the corporation in the municipal affairs of the town. We have seen him elevated four times to the civic chair, — in thi years 

1850, 1855. 1862, and 1863-^nd in what manner he has fulfilled the duties of that high office on those several occasions it 

is not ,for me to say, further than tliat I am quite sure his immediate successor may vainly hope to give equal satisfaction. 

During two years of that mayoralty — 1851, 1852 — he rendered most essential service to the town, in the Industrial Exhibiiiun 

as one of the jurors, and he also had the honour of being selected as vice-cliairman of the jurors in the great International Exhibition 

of j86i — 1862. In that capacity, from his great knowledge of the machinery and the textile fabrics of the town, he was 

enabled to place Nottingham in the position which it perhaps would not have ranked had it been less ably r^resented on 

that occa^n. (Hear, hear.) We have all experienced the obligations which we are under, peculiarly to Mr. Birkin, for the 

important services , which he rendered to the manufacturing town of Nottingham, on the occasion^of those two great industrial 

exhibitions. But, I think, perhaps, it is more especially with reference to the great servicss,* the industry which he displ.iyed, 

the time which he devoted, and the advantages which resulted to the town through his exertions during the four years of his 

mayoralty, that we are called together to-day to present our friend Mr. Birkin with the elegant testimonial which I see before 

me. As a mggistrate of the town, and also as a magistrate of the county, Mr. Birkin has been eminently distinguished for the 

imparti.-ility of his conduct, and his endeavours "on all occasions to temper justice with mercy. He has, as you are .ill aware, 

been associated with most of the important committees connected with the management of various departments of this town ; 

and his aid and assistance, both fit time and money, have never been grudged to our local charitable institutions, nor withheld 

from the poor and needy. I hAe said thus much, gentlemen, because the occasion on ijfhich we are met demanded that I 

should do so ; but to oflcr commentaiy upon the facts which I haveijaid before you, would, perhaps, be not so ajipropriatc. 

The commentary is upon the table,— rthe* result of your united wishes to present Mr. Birkin with something which m.ay be a 

memorial of his usefulness ito the; town of Nottingham. 1 therefore, gentlemen, do not feel called upon to say anything more, 

and I will at once address myself to Mr. Birkin particularly. (Cheers.) Turning to Mr. Birkin, the Mayor continued : — As 

mayor of this town, and chairman of this meeting, and in the name of the magistrates and memjjers <of the town council, I 

have the pleasure to present you with a handsome testimonial, and to recjuest your acceptance of it. It is a token of the 

approbation of your conduct and your career in the various positions u])on which I have briefly touched ; arfd I am quite sure 

I nj.iy add that it is the united wish of every contributor to tha» memorial, of every gentleman who is present, that yoir may live 

many years 19 see i{ adorn the centre of your hospitable table. (Loud cheers.) I am quite sure, also, 1 may add the wish 

that your children and your children's children, by looking upon that memorial, may be led to emulate your useful career. 

(Hear, hear.) There are three beautiful figures supporting that elaborately carved oak, which seem to be truly embleni.-itical. 

Those figures arc Labour, Justice, and Trosperity, and may not inapprojirialcly l>c taken as emblematical of your own career. 

(Applause.) In your instance, certainly. justice has rewaraed prosperity, as (he result of well-directed labour. (Loud cheers.) 

» * • ' 

The Mayor then resumed his seat, and Mr. Birkin made the following reply : — 

"Aid. BlKKiN, who, on rising, was greeted witli a round of^pplausc, proceeded to s.iy, whilst evidently l.-ilxiuring undcl* 
deep emotional feeling :— Mr. Mayor and gentlemen,— If ever this tongue was unable to give utterance to the feelings of my 


heart, it is on' the present occasion. You will pardon me, I am sure, because the thoughts and feelings which yon, Mr. Mayor, 
have enkindled in referring to different periods of my career, are periods which I myself have 'never .looked upon with displeasure, 
but the contrary. I make this observation, not for myself, but for the encouragement of those present who are younger, lliar 
the most agreeable period in my life was when I was pursuing a career of industry, in the full hope and confidence that the 
time would come when I "should receive the reward. (Cheers.) That time has come: I realize before me the fa<* that my 
fellow-townsmen — the magistrates aittt the members of the Municipal Corporation, who for the time being represent the public 
spirit, Xhe intelligence, the enterprise, and the experience of the to^vn-»-have met together and produced the emblem I see tefore 
me of their appreciation of services which they are pleased- to say I have rendered the town whilst discharging public duties, 
as chief magistrate of the borough. (Applause.) I say, Mr. Mayor, that, realising your kindness on this occasion, I feel 
altogether unable to make known to you how highly I appreciate this unsought and unexpected act of generosity and 'kiiidneiB, 
manifested in such a handsome and substantial manner. Whatever satisfaction I may have given to you, my fellow-townsmen, 
I would take this opportunity of saying, that not less on the first than on every subsequent occasion on which I accepted the 
office of mayor, I did so>vith a dtgree of jjear and trembling, lest the dignity and the importance of that office should suffer 
through my inefficiency. Sir, (addressing the mayor,) in tlie discharge of those duties, whether on my first or subsequent 
acceptance of the office you now so worthily fill, I was on all occasions deeply gratified at tlie sympathy and the support which 
on all hands I received. It afforded me a convincing proof, however, that it is not altogetner the Mayor, but a veneration 
which occupies the public mind for the antiquity of that important office which you, Mr. Mayor, have now the honour to fill. 
(.\pplause.) Sir, it was to me most gratifying to receive the assistance and support of all classes of the public in the discharge 
of those duties, and to know that the magistrates and my brethren of the town CQiuncil ever stood by me, rendering me services 
far beyond anything I had ever anticipated. But, in addition to tliis, I have to thank the press for the uniformity of the 
assistance I have received at their hands. Indeed, of them I may say, that to me they have. e'er been 


And to my faults a little blind." 
Sir, I takf this opportunity of tendering my most cordial and warmest thanks to each and everj'one from whom I have received those 
marks of kindness and support. You, Sir, have referred to some' services which you have been pleased to say I have rendered 
to 'the town of Nottingham, and more especially during the great exliibitions of 1851 and 1862. Perhaps I may be pardoned 
in saying that during those exhibitions, and also on other occasions, I have been brought in contact with the -noble, the 
honourable, and the dignified, not only of this countiy, but of bther countries ; and that I often alifcst slirank from the discharge 
of the duties which devolved upon me ; but, happily, I was fortified by that couplet of Pope — 

" Honour and shame from no condition rise: 
Act well your pftrt, there all the honour lies." 
(Loud cheers.) I can with truth and confidence say, that through life it has been my ambition to act well my part, and in doing 
that I have ieft it to my fellow-townsmen to declare" whether I have discharged my duty faithfully, and. to their satisfaction or 
otherwise. I know that in the discharge of those duties, whether they have been, pleasant or otherwise, I have bee% animated 
by a sense of duty, and by that deep interest which I have taken, and must ever continue to feel, in the welfare of every one 
connected with this town. I have always felt that, as far as practicable, from the position which X held, I was called upon to 
do all i could to promote the honour and to secure the happiness of all my fellow-townsmen. "I have friends here who know, 
however, that on one occasion at least — there are other occasions of which no one knows but myself — in which I have had to 
stand alone in supporting the honour of my fellow-townsmen. But, in this, permit me to say, I was actuated by lugher motives 
than that of securing the applause of men, bji that of duty ; and now it is to me a source of great satisfaction to find that my 
conduct has won the approval of my fellowmen. (Cheers.) Having regard to your handsome present, and the kind, the thought- 
ful words in which that has been offered for my acceptance, language fails me to. express the emotions that fill my heart. I 
can only thank you, Mr. Mayor and, Gentlemen, from the bottom of my heart, for the very torching manner in which you have 
referred to my past life, and for the very eloquent words which you, sir, have employed in making this presentation. They have, 
indeed, touched my heart. Permit me, therefore, before I sit down, to thank you, sir, as chief of the mimicipal body, and all 
of the gentlemen whom I see around me, and whom I have the honour to call my friends — to thank yon one and all, most 
heartily, most cordially, for the many acts of kindness which "I have received at your hands. (Applause.) Gentlemen, in con- 
clusion, allow me to express a hope that your lives may be spared to see completed those works which gentlemen of spirit and 
enterprise connected with the Corporation are now engaged in carrying out, and which, when finished, will, I trust, tend to 
promote the moral 'and social welfare of the inhabitants." (Cheers.)' 

From these hvo speeches our readers will perceive that Mr. Birkin's . business and social relations have 
been mainly connected* with Nottingham. The allusions to his "important services to the town in the 
two International E.>;hibitions " held in London, are additional proofs of his judgment and social standing. 
He was well qualified to become the representative and e.xponent of our staple industr)- ; and the manner 
in which he acquitted himself of his duty, deserved all the eulogium recorded by the Mayor. Nor need 
we ever to fear for the national opulence, consequence, or glory of Britain, so long as such enterprise, 
"industry, ability, skill, and resolution actuates heAnerchants, eis is illustrated in the career of Richard 
Birkin, Esq. 


•I .. 


y! little process Jletby. 





ijAMUEL SLATER, the subject of this Memoir, was bom at the Holly House, near Belper, Derby- 
I' shire, in the year, 1768. His father, William Slater, farmed his .'own lands, 'but did hot confine 
himself exclusively to Agriculture, being also a Timber Merchant, and Land Agent. Being a 
neighbour of Jedediah Strutt, of whom we have had occasion to speak, he once made a considerable 
purchase for him containing a water-privilege, on which there is no\y a very extensive establishment. He 
was otherwise engaged with Mr. Strutt in making purchases of consequence, who had a high opinion of 
his abilities, and integrity as a man of business. This acquaintance and these transactions, led to the 
connection of Mr. Strutt with Samuel, who was the fifth son, and is said to have resembled his father in 
his person, and to have inherited* his talents. This enterprising son tiansplanted a branch of the .Slater 
family into the New Worid, where they have grown and prosi)ered for several generations. The mother 
of Mr. Slater was a fine looking woman, and was three times married S||e had by her first husband, 
William Slater, a large family; William, who now lives on the paternal estate with many children, ijids fair 
to keep up the family name in his native county. ^ 

Samuel, as is usual previous to being apprenticed, went on trial to Mr. Strutt, and during this probation 
his father fell from a load of hay. This fall was the- occasion of his death, at which time Samuel 
was fourteen years of age. In the year 1783 he was apprenticed to Mr. Jedediah Strutt, who was then 
building a large Cotton Factory at Milford, and was a partner with Sir Richard Arkwright in the Cotton 
spinning business ; the latter having been induced to this connection by the prospect which Strutt's 
machines afforded, of an increased consumption of yarn. Samuel Slater asked Mr. Strutt, before he went 
into the business, whether he considered it a permanent business. Mr. Strutt replied, " It is not. probable 
Samuel, that it will always be as good as it is now, but I have no doubt it will always be a fair business 
if it be well managed" In the eariy part of our young apprentice's time, he manifested the bent of his 
mind, for he fre<]uently spent his Sundays alone, making experiments in machinery. The expertness and 
propensity of his mind may be seen in the following circumst«ice. Mr. Strutt endeavoured to improve the 
heart-motionj that would eplajge or raise tl* yarn in the ipiddle, so as to contain more on the bobbin. 
Jedediah Strutt was unsuccessful in his experitnents, but Samuel saw what was wanting, and went to work 
the next Sunday, (the only time he had to him.self,) and formed such a motion to the satisfaction of his 
master, who presented him with a guinea. Slater served his indenture with Mr. Strutt, and faithfully 
performed his pan of the contract to the last day of the term, and there was a good unc^rstanding be- 
tween the parlies to the last. After his time was out he engaged with Mr. Strutt to have the oversight 
of the erection of some new works, in addition to the mill, and this general employment, with his close 
observation (for he always saw aqd heard everything, nothing could escape his notice), and retentive 
memory, was of great service to him in afterwards assisting him to erect his first mill in Pawtuckct If 
he had been confined to one branch of business, as is usual with an a])prentice in England, his knowledge ' 
would have been inadequate to perform what he did on his first arrival in America. He had the confi- 
dence of his master, and became his right hand man, and he might have attained the highest eminence 
by a continuance in England. There were early indications that he designed embarking in business for 
himself, and it is said that he used to enyuire of Arkwright and others, if they thought the business 
would be overdone in England. Yet it does not appear that he ever made known to any person 
his intention of leaving England. The motive, or inducement, and first o<-casion of his thinking of 
leaving Mr. Strutt, and what finally detcnnined him, was his observing in a Philadelphia l'a])er, a re- 

If 4 



ward offered by a Sgciety, for a machine to make Cotton Rollers, &c. This convinced him that 
America must be very bare of anything of the kind, and he prepared himself accordingly. He probably 
knew the risk he should run in attempting to leave England as a Machinist, and it was characteristic of 
him never to talk of his business — where he was going, or when he intended to return. John Slater, a 
surviving brother, says he remembers him coming home, and telling his mother that he wished to have 
his clothes, as he was going by the coach to London ; this was the last time his mother, or any of the 
family ever saw him, till fiis brtjther John joined him in Pawtucket. He was aware that there was danger 
of his being stopped, as the Government restrictions were very severe, and very unjust ; the officers were 
very scrupulous in searching every passenger to America. He therefore resolved not to take any pattern, 
nor have any writing or memorandum about him, but trusted wholly to his requirements in the business, 
and to his 'excellent memory ; the only thing he took with him was his indentures, and these he kept 
carefully concealed. His appearance was also in his favour, it being that of an English farmer's son, 
rather than that of a mechanic. Though he left home for London, without making known his intentions, 
he did not design to leave his friends in suspense ; he therefore prepared a letter for his mother, informing 
her of his destination ; which, however, he did not venture to put in the post-office, till just before he went 
on jDoard the ship -bound to New York. ■ On the first day of September, 1789, he took his departure from 
Derbyshire to London, and on the 13th he sailed for New York, where he arrived in November, after a 
passage of sixty-si.x days. He left New York in January, 1790, for Pro\idence, and there made an arrange- 
ment with Messrs. Almy and Brown, to commence preparation for spinning cotton at Pawtucket On the 
1 8th of the same liionth, thf venerable Moses Brown took him out to Pawtucket, where he commenced 
making the machintsry principally with his own hands, and on the 20th of December following he started 
three cards, drawing and roving, and sevaity-two spindles, which were worked by an old fulling-mill water- 
wheel in a clothier's building, in which they continued spinning about twenty months ; at the expiration 
of which time they had several thousand pounds of yam on hand, notwithstanding every exertion was used 
to weave it up and sell it. Early in the year 1793, Almy, Brown, and Slater, built a small factory in that 
village (known and called to. this day tha old factory), in which they set in motion, July 12, the prepara- 
tion cards and seventy-two spindles, and slowly added to that number as the sales of the yarn appeared 
more promising, which induced Slater to be concerned in erecting a new mill, and to increase the machinery 
in the old mill. On his first arrival at Pawtucket, Slater went to board with Mr. Oziel Wilkinson, who 
had two daughters, and one of these, Hannah, he eventually married, and by her he had a numerous 
family, as the following register \nll show. 

Samuel Slater and Hannah Wilkinson, married October 2nd, 1791. 
AVilliam Slater, son of Samuel Slater and Hannah, his wife, bom August 31st, 1796. 
Elizabeth Slater, daughter of Samuel Slater and Hannah, bom Noyember 15th, 1798. 
Mar)' Slater, daughter of Samuel and Hannah, born September 28th, 1801. 
Samuel Slater, son of Samuel and Hannah, bom September 28th, 1802. 
George Basset Slater, son of Samuel and Hannah, bom Febmary 12th, 1S04. 
Jphn Slater, son of Samuel and Hannah, born May 23rd, 1805. 
■ Horatio Nelson Sla;ter, son of Samuel and Hannah, bom March 5th, 1808. 
William Slater, son of Samuel and Hannah, born October 15th, 1809. 
Thomas Graham Slater, son of Samuel and Hannah, born, September 19th, 1812. 
Mrs. Slater died a short time after the birth of her last child, and left her husband overwhelmed in 
business which was daily increasing, with a family of small children. Perhaps a mother's loss was never 
more severely felt. On the 21st of November, 181 7, Mr. Slater was married to his second wife, who was 
the widow of Robert Parkinson, and had been known to the former Mrs. Slater, who had very much 
esteemed her as a friend. Samuel Slater died April 20th, 1835, at Webster, Massachusets, having pre- 
viously t^ken his sons into partnership with him, and the Finn is still carried on under the name of Samuel 
Slater & Sons. They have seven mills — two of Stone, three of brick, and t\vo of wood. Five of these 
derive their power from French river; the other two are in the centre of the village now called Slater- 
ville, and obtain their power from Slater's Lake ; the Indian name of which is Chorgoggaggoggmanc/wgga. 



It is a large pond more than four miles long, and is a never-failing source of supply. They use 6000 
spindles, and 90 looms, employ 180 hands, and work up 1000 bales of Cotton, which produce 15,000 
yards a week; besides large quantities of satinet warps, and sewing thread. They jnanufacture, also, broad 
cloths, cassimeres, and satinets. In this branch of their business, they use 600 lbs. of wool a day, or 
180,000 lbs. a year.* 

A Son of Mr. Slater visited the old Holly House in the Summer of the year 1864, and had various 
Views taken as a remembrance of the jjlace of his Father's nativity, which is still occupied by the 
Slater family. 


\ 1832 died Samuel Godley, well known by the title of the "Marquis of C.ranby." He was a 
native of Whitwell, near Barlbrough, and was enlisted into the Life Guards, some two-and- 
twenty years previously, by Corporal John Silcock, at Chesterfield. At the battle of Waterloo 
he distinguished hiftiself so much as to obtain the honour of a niche in Relief's itistory of the War 
(which also gives an engraving of the deed). That historian records his " deeds of arms " in the following 
words : — " A private in the Life Guards, who, from being bald, was jocularly styled by his comrades the 
' Marquis of Granby,' "had his horse shot under him, and his helmet knocked *ff. Regardless of 
circumstances, however, he boldly attacked and killed one of the cuirasseers, and rode off in triumph with 
his enemy's horse, his companions in arms exclaiming, 'Well done. Marquis of Granby!' His skull was 
fractured in the contest, but he did not quit the field until the battle was completely won." After his 
discharge from the Second Life Guards, up to the period of his decease, he had been in the employment 
of the proprietor of the bazaar. Baker Street, Portman Square, London. 


URING the formation of the North-Midland Railway, in 1837, an excavator went into a public- 
house at Clay Cross, and, calling for a glass of ale, entered into conversation with the landlord, 
in the course of which the dishones^ practices of the men working on the line were discussed. 
Tills peij^n, who pretended to be a sort of overlooker, said that* he had the good fortune to have an 
honest set of men under him, and that he was about to treat them with a gallon of gin, as a reward for 
their industry«and good conduct. He then produced a gallon bottle, which he had previously half filled 
with walir, and requested tlie unsuspicious landlord to add " two more quarts of gin," which was accordingly 
done. On a request for payment being made, he intimated to the landlord his intention of paying at a 
future day ; but mine host, having no faith in excavators,, refu.sed to trust, and two (juarts of the liquor 
were consecjuently re-poured from the bottle ; after which the wily rascal, chuckling at his success, retired 
with his two- quarts of water ingeniously converted into capital* half-and-ljalf grog. 

Abridged from a Work published in America. 



N Sunday, August 27th, 1837, the Vicar of Crich delivered his farewell discourse to a numerous 
assembly convened for the occasion. He appeared much excited, and read prayers in a hurried 
manner. Without leaving the desk, he proceeded to address his flock for the last time ; and 
as the discourse was of an unusual character, it may not be uninteresting to the public. The following, 
as far as can be recollected, is the substance thereof : — " To-morrow, my friends, this living will be vacant, 
and if any one of you is desirous of becoming my successor, he has now an opportunity. Let him use 
his influence, and who can tell but he may be honoured with the title of 'Vicar of Crich.' As this is my 
last address, I shall only say, had I been a blacksmith, or a son of Vulcan, the following lines fnight not 
have been inappropriate : — 

My sledge and hammer lie reclined, 

My bellows, too, have lost their wind ; 

My fire's extinct, my forge decay'd. 

And in the dust my vice is laid. 

My coal is spent, my iron's gone. 

My nails are drove, my work is done ; ' 

My fire-dried corpse lies here at rest, 

And, smoke-like, soars up to be bless'd. 

If you expect anything more, you are deceived ; for I shall only say. Friends, farewell, farewell ! " The 
effect of this address was too visible to pass unnoticed. Some appeared as if awoke from a fearful dream, 
and gazed on each other in silent astonishment ; for others it was too powerful for their risible nerves to 
resist, and they burst out into loud fits of laughter, while one and all slowly retired from the scene, to 
exercise their future cogitations on the farewell discourse of their late pastor. 


TN old man who had paid a visit to a relation at a distance, was quite in raptures, on his return 
home, with the kind reception he had met with. He said the kind woman placed before hinl 
the best food she had in the house, and prefaced his repast with " Eite, mon, eite." When he 
was satisfied, the old dame, although she had repeated at internals, during the meal, " Eite, mon, eite," 
still pressed him. The man replied, " A' have eiten, woman, till im welly brussen ;" when she rejoined, 
" Eite, then, and brust thee out. A' wooden we hadden to brussen thee wee." This was, indeed, killing 
with kindness. 


^K^SffiN an alcove on the Heights of Abraham, at Matlock, about twenty-five years ago, some would-be 
poet, no doubt, after cudgelling his brains severely for a verse, had written : — 

" He who climbs these heights sublime. 
Will wish to come a second time." 

Under this was added, in another handwriting : — 

" And when he comes a second time, 
I hope he'll make a better rhyme." 




I HERE is a Dr. of Physick late come to live at S(fiithwe/l, in Nottinghamshire, who undertakes 
(with God's Blessing) to cure the four following Distempers with any Man in England, viz. 
Melancholy, with all tiie dark Incumbrances of the soul, and dejections of' mind ; witness 
Tlio. Dumbel, Esq. ; of Lyme in Cheshire, who was restored under that ill Circumstance to a Miracle. 
2. Convulsion-Fits, tho' ai^pearing in the most ugly shape possible ; witness the daughter of Mr. Briger, in 
Lancashire, who had often fallen into Fire and AV'ater, and now ]}erfectly cur'd. 3. A Consumption : witness 
Mr. Henry Lumbers, of Cha4)pel-a-Frith, in Derbyshire, who was reduced to a mere Scheleton, perfectly 
recover'd. 4thly. The Stone; he not only gives immediate Ease in the most acute Pains of that Dis- 
temper, but has a Remedy that has" been found most Excellent in the Desolution of it ; witness Mr. 
Rowlatul Daintry of Nei^stle in Staffordshire, from whom he brought two considerable stones. 

Note, He is always to be spoken with at the White-Hart in Newark, and likewise at the White- Hart 
in Mansfield every Market-day. 


r.OUT thirty years ago, a landlady in this borough threatened a certain schoolmaster, who had 
just put on a score, which he was in no luirr)- to pay, with legal proceedings. By way of 
settlement he sent in the following account, as a set-off. The junior members of the two families 
were on terms of intimacy, and the schoolmaster appears to have consoled him.self for bruises received by 
his son during the term of three months, by steeping his sense of injury arising from his son's wrongs in 
the barley juice of the mother of the assailant. 


July 22. 'Three, bruises . - - - - . 

27. Two ditto ..---. 

Aug. I. One ditto ...-.- 

(2. Two ditto ...--- 

21. Kicking two scabs off - 

26. Throwing a stone and cutting his shin - • - 
Sept. 5. Kicking the old scab off, and making two fresh wounds 

19. Ditto- ....--- 

Oct I. Ditto - - - - - - 

Sundry kicks and bruises - - - - 

• For Ale - - * - 

Due to balance - - - - . - 

N.B.— I think this way is much better than giving magistrates money. 




>2 7 
II 9 



Eccentric Characters 



"What I have heard, permit me to relate." — ViRG. Ms. vi. verse 266. 

" So the bells of memory's wonder city 

Peal for me their old melodious chime ; 
So my heart poure forth a changeful ditty, 
Remembering well the bygone time." 

From the 









" Hail, hoary pilgrim ! venerable man ! 
What changes hast thou seen since life began ; 
What vast improvements in this land of ours : 
Knowledge has spread, and men's inventive powers 
Wonders have wrought, to lessen human toil, 
Extend our commerce, and enrich our isle. 
Statesmen have pleaded, poets sweetly sung. 
To break the ponderous chain oppression hung 
Round Afric's sons ; and thou hast lived to see 
Britannia set her injured negroes free. 
What wondere, too, has piety achieved, 
What_ moral wastes of barrenness relieved ; 
What graceful structures rear'd for praise and prayer, 
That heavenward [Mint, and that for heaven prepare." 

Beeb^ Eyre. 

R. FOSTER, the " Centenarian," as he is generally called, Aas born in the parish of All Saints', 
Derby, on the 8lh of November, 1762, and died on the 12th of March, 1865, at the ripe and 
extraordinary age of one hundred and two years and one hundred and t^venty-four days. Well 
might our talented, poet e.\claim : — ' * 

" Foster! tliy life is spared beyond the span, 
The fleeting |)eriod in the life of man," 

for certainly it is allotted to few men to reach such a ripe old age. 

Edward Foster was the son of a gentleman of that name, who had filled the office of land-steward to 
the late Sir Robert Burdett, Bart., of Foremark, Derbyshire. His grandfather was Robert Howard, son 
of the Duke of Norfolk of thAt day, who, having taken the side of the Pretender in the Scotch rebellion 
of 1715, was compelled to seek obscurity to avoid being tried for high-treason. This he accomplished by 
changing his name from Howard to Hayward, and following the occu])ation of a gardener in the service 
of a gentleman named Cotton, and subsequently in that of a fanner. He, like his grandson, lived to a 
patriarchal old age, having died at one hundred and four, and his wife at one hundred and three. Thus, 
we see that he came of a long-lived stock, a stock remarkable for an ample develojjmcnt of the vital apparatus, 
a capacious chest, large lungs, heart, stomach, all betokening ancestral and extraordinary longevity. 
,0f Edward Foster it could not be said, as Manfred represents mankind in general: — 

" There is an order 
Of mortals on earth who do become 
Old in their youth, and die ere middle age, 
Wi.hout violence of warlike death; 
Some perishing of pleasure, some of study. 
Some of disease, and some of insanity. 
And some of withered or of broken hearts ; 
For this is a mala<ly that slays 
More than are number'd in the lists of fate. 
Taking all shapes, and bearing many names." 

But he wore out <iui(?tly, naturally, till tiic circling hours 

" Brought the appointed time of rest. 
And l.iid him down in death." 




The subject oT this sketch entered the Derby Militia, as ensign, when little more than seventeen years 
of age ; but, volunteering into the line, he was promoted to a lieutenancy in the 20th Regiment of Foot, 
and served under the Marquis Comwallis towards the close of the American revolution. He went after- 
wards with his regiment to Holland, under the Duke of York, and was under Sir Ralph Abercrombie in 
Egypt, and was a witness of the burial of that commander. From that period to the year 1805 he \vas 
stationed at Deal _or AValmer, and often dined at the same table as tlie hero Nelson. . Singularly enough, 
he quitted the profession of arms the very day on whiqh Nelson was killed at Trafalgar, and betook himself 
to the fine arts, for which he had natural proclivities, and a cultivated taste. His portraits were a success, 
and gave the fullest gratification. He received the appointment of " Miniature Painter to the Royal 
Family," and received the special patronage of Queen Charlotte and the Princess Amelia, who appreciated 
his talents and .his character. He had apartments allotted to him in die Round Tower at Windsor 
Castle, and his intimacy therein may be judged by the fact that he was frequently indted to join the . 
royal circle in a game of whist. This appointment, besides its honour, was one of considerable pecuniary 
benefit to Mr. Foster, through the connection it gave him amongst the principal nobilit)'. Afterwards, he 
exercised his profession as a profilist in various to\vns in the kingdom, and took the portraits of Lord 
Byron, Sir Walter Scott, and many other distinguished characters of the day. There are many alive now 
who can remember Mr. Foster practising as an artist in the Corn-Market, Derby, between forty and fifty 
years ago ; and many of his artistic performances are still e.xtant, in the possession of ourselves and other 
inhabitants of the town, which speak for themselves. 

As a profilist his merit was something remarkable. He invented a machine, which, from its neatness 
and mathematical construction, was ranked amongst the most ingenious things of the day. The following 
complimentary lines, by the poet Ramsay, on the invention referred to, will give the reader some idea of 
its character. They appeared in the Macclesfield Courier, May, 181 1 : — 

. " First from the shadow on the polish'd wall 

Were took those faces which profile we calF; 
The first was drawn by the Corinthian dame. 
Who, by the art, immortalized her name ; 
From posture next improving on her plan, 
The artist with the pencil took the man ; 
Yet oft the lines where blemishes prevail'd, 
Were taught to flatter, and the likeness fail'd. 
But how to form machines to take the face 
With nice precision in one minute's space ; 
To paint mth bold, unerring certainty 
The face profile, in shades that time defy. 
Where all allow the likeness to agree, 
This honour, Foster, was reserved for thee." 

Some time after the death of his royal patrons, Mr. Foster began to occupy his mind in the production 
of a series of educational charts for scholastic purposes ; and these charts, to the day of his death, he 
continued to prepare and dispose of, as a source of income, though, at the same time, for the last thirty 
years of his life he presented no less a number than 5344 gratuitously to parochial and other schools. 
He believed that the grand aims of life could only be accomplished by a sacrifice of self : he carried with 
him to the grave the blessed satisfaction that he did his duty as for as in him lay to his fellows, by im- 
parting to them as a free gift the knowledge he had gained at much cost and experience. Among these 
charts may be mentioned first, " A Chronological Analysis of the Old and New Testaments ;" second, a 
chart of the " Histories of Rome, France, and Britain ;" third, a chart of the " Histories of England from 
B.C. HOC to A.D. 1852;" and "A Chronological Chart of the History of the British Empire." In a word, 
Edward Foster, by his cheerful and ingenious labours in the field of educational literature, not only 
contributed much to the success of our schools, but conferred a benefit on the nation, which, we fear, it 
but little knows. 



Edward Foster was married five time.s. His fifth wife survives him, as does her only daughter, Phillis 
Howard Foster, both of whom, *e regret to announce, are left totally unprovided for. As he had 'claims 
on the gratitude of the public, these claims are surely now due to his widow and daughter, and we trust 
they will not be withheld. 

By his first wile, Elizabeth Ward, Mr. Foster had a son who acquired considerable celebrity as an 
advocate and lecturer on hehalf of the Polish refugees. He had also a daughter, who was a ver>' clever 
artist ; but all his sons and daughters by previous marriages have ])receded him to that " bourne from 
whence no traveller returns." 

Mr. Foster's numerous marriages were the cause of no little badinage and many jokes at his expense in 
his day ; and amongst various specimens of the kind, we select the following from the pen of a lady :— 

. " Mr. Foster married a wife, and then he lost her ; 

He married a second, and then a third, 
. And then a fourth, upon my word ! 

Laugh not, good sirs, for, I protest, 
A fifth is added to the rest. 
And a fair daughter calls him sire 
At'fivescore years. You must admire • 

My tale, if true, — 
Why, Sir, I mean five score and two !" 

Mr. Foster was in stature about five feet four inches, of a good complexion, well made, and very 
active. With great equability of temper he possessed a constant flow of spirits, which rendered him a 
pleasing companion, while his manners were natural, simple, and unassuming. He was one of those whose 
labour is their pleasure ; he was never elevated by success or praise into negligence, nor wearied by neglect 
into impatience. He was endowed with a marvellous power of memory, which rendered his conversation 
on past events a brilliant treat to those who, like the writer, were honoured with his friendship. His 
social virtues in all the relations of life rendered him the centre of a variety of agreeable friends, many of 
whom now miss him greatly. 

Age, in Mr. Foster's case, as it should do in all, brought with it veneration, respect, and calm delights. 
He could repeat with the poet : — 

" Though I am old, yet I am strong and lusty ; 
For in my youth I never did apply 
Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood " 

to any great excess. 

As his long winter approached its termination, much of it was spent amidst the cheering sympathy of 
those who a])i)rcciated him. We are glad to state the late Lord Palmcrston granted him ;^6o from the 
Royal Bounty Fund, which was well deserved, and proved of much service to him in his declining years. 
We are happy also to record that several complimentary dinners were given to Mr. Foster, when our 
municipal authorities and townsmen vied with eacli other in tendering honour to his reverend age and 
high character. 

At tlie birthday dinner given to congratulate him on attaining the ripe age of one hundred years, 
Mr. H. Adams, tiie chairman, said: — 

" Mr. Vice-President and Gentlemen, — Having known our friend and guest, Mr. Foster, for a considerable number 
of years, I readily consented to preside over this highly-respectable gathering, in compliance with the wishes oT his frienils. 
Many of Mr. Foster's earlier friends have passed away, but some of his later acquaintances arc here tu congratulate him upon 
his present good health, and to wish him continued health and happiness. (Cheers.) Our juvenile friend who sits on my 
right, looking more like a young Archbishop than a centenarian, — (laughter,) — betrays no signs of rapidly failing health, 
notwithstanding a life of great aciinty and vicissitude. Born on the 8th of November, 1762, in the fii'st American war, many 
years ago he joined the militia, and when the French revolution broke out he went to Eg)'pt with General Abercrombic, and 
at Jiis death Mr^ Foster returned home with one hundred and four men, all more or less aftlicted with ophthalmia. His friends 
persuaded him to leave the army, which he di<l on the day Nelson died. Being of an active turn of mind, and having also 
a taste for the fine arts, he in the first instance invented and patented a machine ; and in the second instance, he turned his 
attention to the fine arts. At the death of his son he took to tlie publishing trade, having compiled some charts, many 



thousands of which have been sold to clergymen and other ministers, and have found ready acceptance in public and private 
schools. (Cheers.) Gentlemen, I cannot detain you at this festive board by relating all the incidents in our guest's varied life. 
I trust that you will not consider that "we are doing homage to a second Bluebeard wlien I inform you that our guest has been 
the husband of five wives, (much laughter,) that he has had seventeen children, (renewed laughter.) that the first-bom, if now 
livine, would have attained her seventy-eighth year, and that the last and only one which has been left, we hope to solace and 
comfort him in his declining days, only a few days ago celebrated her tenth birthday. (Cheers and laugliter.) As a proof that 
Mr. Foster is not a Bluebeard, I need only point out these facts to prove his veneration for «nd his high appreciation of the 
fair sex. (Cheers and laughter. ) Though the snowy locks of our guest atte# increasing years, yet if we look at his clear 
comple.\ion, his bright eye when it flashes up, though at times a little dimmed withal, fiis clear intellect and retentive memory, 
we will not despair of being spared to meet him again even another year. (Cheers.) We all hope that years of happiness 
and prosperity are still in store for him ; that, however, is a matter entirely within the dispensations of a gracious Providence, 
to whose behests we must all humbly bow. (Hear, hear.) But when our friend has entered the dark 'valley of the shadow 
of death,' having faith and hope in a bright future, he will at least have the consolation of knowing that he did not pass away 
from our midst unwept, unhonoured, and unsung. (Loud cheers.) Gentlemen, I give you 'Continued health, happiness, and 
prosperity to our juvenile friend, Mr. Foster." (Cheers and laughter.) 

(Three times three cheers were given.) 

Mr. Foster, on rising, had a hearty reception. He said:— "Mr. Cii.mrm.'in asd Gentlemen,— The present moment is 
the happiest of my life. I am not used to making speeches, but I know how to be grateful. Providence has been kind to 
me. I am an old man, but get my living by my own labour, and I hope to be able to continue to do so as long as there 
is a necessity. (Cheers.) I hope to live a few years longer to meet my friends on future occasions. (Cheers.) You are kind to 
me, and I am grateful to you. Good health, prosperity, and happiness to you all in this world, and blessings in the world to 
come." (Loud cheers.) 

His last hours were worthy of a good Christian. He died in sesenity and happiness, in the full as- 
surance of a joyful resurrection ; and his earthly remains were interred in the New Cemetery, Derby, on 
the 1 6th of March, 1865. 



fkJ^ii, wTy^yji 




OF H E A N O R . 

"A true delineation of the smallest man, and his scenes of pilgrimage through life, is capable of interesting 
the greatest man. All men are, tq an unspeakable extent, brothers ; each man's life a strange emblem of cverj- 
man's ; and human portraits, faithfully drawn, are of all pictures, the welcomest on human walls." 


lis far as the physical mechanism of mankind is concerned, individuals are pretty nearly the 
same all the world over. They are all constructed upon the same principle, propelled by 
the same mysterious magnetic power, and subject to th^ same casualties. But although we 
• match one another, bone for tone, sinew for sinew, we are neither mentally nor morally alike. There is 
as much difference in our dispositions, tempers, inclinations, ambitions, and natural aspirations, as there 
is in the markings of that curious gramineous jiroduction called striped or ribbon grass. Some are playful 
and harmless; others cross and ferocious. Some are inclined to honesty and integrity; others given to 
dishonesty. Some are open, kind-hearted, benevolent ; others close, mean, selfish. We have Shakespeares, 
Johnsons, Bums', Dickens', and Hoods ; we have also lunatic asylums, and hundreds of helpless creatures. 
We are as we are, and must be. We cannot take the temper and the intellect of one man and put them 
into another; no individual can change his nature, any more than (he leopard can change his spots, or 
the Ethiopian his skin. We ought therefore to be lenient and forgiving of each other's failings or frailties. 
• Now as James cannot be John, neither can John become James ; and as we cannot change their 
natures, common sense ought to dictate forbearance for their actions. And after all, what woukl this world 
be if all were alike? Merely a dull, plodding wilderness! It hath been written, "Despise not the day 
of small things," neither, therefore, should we despise those ajjparently insignificant characters such as form 
the subject of this sketch. A nation is composed of multitudes of individuals, just as the Tower of Babel 
consisted of an infinity of bricks, and the vast Pyramids contain blocks of stone beyond mortal reckoning, 
but all useful, and all necessary. The universe itself is made up of an infinity of small particles, but the 
combinations how grand — how glorious ! And so likewise it is \ariety in the human world, as in the 
floral and animal kingdoms, that gives life, animation, and interest to it, and makes Shakespeare say that 

"All the world's a stage. 
And men and women only players;" 

and he that would have all men of one stature and mental calibre, one disposition, and one creed, must 
belong to the unreflecting class of philosophers. " Why God has made us as we are," is easily answered ; 
it is all for the best. 

We trust these sentiments will be the motto, in reading our brief sketch of one of the oddities of 

Edward Prince, of Heanor, better known as " Little Neddy," was born, March 4th, :8oo, and is now, 
at this writing, about 65 years of age. Neddy was the fourth son of his father, jvho was a stocking maker, 
and who had twelve children, all of whom, with the exception of Neddy, have the proper development of all 
their faculties. It is a curious physiological and psychological fact, that from seven years of age, his brain and 
mental faculties seem to have remained jjerfectly stationary : as if the brain had been struck with apoplexy, 
or paralysed with lymph, in the intellectual and moral regions. He is, therefore, still a child in his mode 
of thinking and acting ; as a proof of which is the fact that he may often be seen playing at marbles and 
other boyish games in the streets, with children of whom he is old enough to be the grandfather. But 



not only is Neddy's brain smaller, and his mental power weaker than any adult, his body has not developed 
either. Neither brain nor body are in a healthy condition, to manifest vigour or health, as he is only four 
feet and a half in height. To the anatomist, physiologist, and phrenologist, he must be an object of great 


We have not heard of any very striking incidents connected with Neddy's career in the early part of 
his existence to indicate his future state. He was sent to school young, as other children, and the rudi- 
ments of education placed before him. He did manage to learn reading, but never mastered the art of 
writino-, while arithmetic was beyond his powers. Curiously enough, however, he can answer simple arith- 
metical questions tolerably, mentally, although, he cannot figure them on a slate. A part of the education 
of the school Neddy frequented was seaming stockings, as the means of future usefulness to his parents, 
who, as already remarked, were in that trade. But neither coq^oral punishment nor persuasion could make 
Neddy perform this portion of his task, as he always asseverated that he "had seamed mony a dozen 
stockings at home." 

At fifteen years of age, Neddy had a stocking-frame made by his parents to suit his diminutive size ; 
and we learn that they had to exercise for years a watchful care and patience before he could be taught 
to work it. He continued off and on to weave stockings until he was forty-five, but for the last twenty 
years, he has either been unwilling or unable to continue it. 

Neddy is a gr^at smoker. He is generally to be seen with a pipe in one hand, and a tobacco-box in ■ 
the other, and also a tobacco-box in his waistcoat pocket, and this gives us one illustration of the shrewdness 
so often displayed by creatures of his class. 'When he began smoking, about twenty-eight years of age, 
many persons used to teaze him with such questions as " Neddy, gie us a bit o' baccy." Neddy in 
response to this question adopted this ruse : — he kept one box with tobacco for his own use : the other 
was invariably empty: the latter was the one always presented to the questioner, who, seeing Neddy so 
short, would generally give him some, or perhaps donate him a few pence to purchase for himself! It 
was years before this trick of Neddy's- was discovered ; nevertheless, the kind, the good-natured, humour the 
joke to this hour. And why not ? Many a penny is worse spent. 

He generally carries about with him three or four pipes in his pockets, and such an attachment does* 
he display for them, just as another child does for its toys, that his irritability is excessive, and his rage 
unbounded when any of them are stolen or hidden away from him, by those who are always teazing such 
harmless objects. 

Yet Neddy possesses a firmness of purpose altogether surprising when we take his general character 
into account. As the phrenologists say, when Neddy's acquisitiveness is excited, he can display consider- 
able resolution. About fi\e years ago a few friends agreed to jiresent Neddy with a new suit of clothes, 
boots included, on condition that he would abstain from smoking for twelve months. This was a hard 
condition to a poor creature whose pleasures are but few, and this one he had indulged in for the space of 
about thirty years ! AVhen it was made to Neddy, he pondered seriously for a few minutes, when lifting 
his head, he said — "Just let me smoke one more pipe-ful, and I will agree." The pipe-ful was smoked, 
the pipes and baccy-boxes deposited with his friends, as earnest of his faith and sincerity, and for one 
whole twelvemonths, in spite of teasing, taunting, sly insinuations as to his honesty, &c., Neddy, to his 
credit be it said, fairly and honourably won the clothes and boots ! How many men who look down 
with contempt on poor Neddy's faculties, would make the same resolution as to spirits and tobacco, and 
-^keep it? 

We are sorr}' to add that Neddy's reformation in the smoking line was not permanent. 

Neddy's brain, as we take it, is not so much inactive, as that its growth has stopped at childhood, 
and thus remains. WTien alone in the streets he is often heard talking aloud as though in conversation 
with some one ; at such times his eyes are fixed with a vacant stare, nor does he seem to see or notice 
any one who may be passing or repassing. AATien in this mood, if taken into a house and given refresh- 
ment, so absorbed is he with some imaginary b'eings, that he will commence an argumentation with them, 
as though they were present : at other times, he wnll i)retend to hold a Court of Justice, and take the 
parts of plaintiff, defendant, witness, and magistrate, to the amusement of the listeners. Then tie will 



assume the character of a husband and father, and act and speak as if surrounded with a family, to whom 
it was his business to give the most impressive monitions. 

Like most semi-maniacs, his temper at times is uncontrollable, and he does not hesitate to throw any- 
thing that comes to hand at those who worry him. Swearing is a vice he is rather addicted to, but it is 
hard to say for how much of that and other failings those thoughtless persons are to be held responsible, 
who take a pleasure in tormenting beings like poor Neddy. Like many others, Neddy's disposition is not 
under his own control, as he is often heard swearing one minute and laughing most heartily the other. 

Numberless have been the tricks played upon Neddy, but as they are such as are but too common in 
most villages where there is one or more of the idiotic class, we pass them by. 

It is at the Christmas season that Neddy is up to his middle in merriment. He looks fonvaid for 
these holidays with a serious anxiety. Then he dresses up in the best he can muster, or, in the words of 
a village bard — 

" Drcss'd in his best from top to toe, 
Amongst his friends he then does go ; 
Many they are, and all show pity, 
To this poor Derbyshire Oddity." 

Neddy goes the round of the place at this season, and we hear that his average Christmas-boxes amount 

to about seven shillings and a few ounces of tobacco. The latter he saves for future emergencies, while 

with the former he pays for what wearing apparel he may be in need of. 

Little Neddy often picks up a few dinners and other treats by such simple gymnastic feats as jumping 

over a cap, or any other object not more, than five inches high. Owing to the peculiar idiosyncracy of 

his character, this jump is with him an extraordinary feat. He endeavours also to tell tales, but we are 

obliged to admit, constructiveness and language are so deficient in him, that but for his oddity of manner, 

there is nothing else in them to attract. He has picked up a few songs which he crones over to please 

his listeners, but his minstrel abilities are not of the first class — we give one or t\vo specimens as 

illustrations : — 

Billy is the lad I should admire, 

Billy is the lad I should adore ; 

Now for him my love lies a-dying, 

For fear I never should see him more. 

Do not you see my Billy is coming. 
Do not you see him in yonder cloud ; 
Guardian angels standing round him,* 
Do not you see they do m^ Billy crown. 

Last .Saturday night my money grew short ; 

We made a little serve us on Sunday ; 
I said, my dear wife, I'll better next week, • 

For I'll go to work early on Monday. 
Our children stand round with submission and fear ; 

We've never no words but my love and my dear — 
Although we've been married a dozen long years. 

What do you think of this, ye that are married ! 

1 have a good wife, a very good wife ; 

Although I've been a sad villain ; 
She's one that neither loves coffee nor tea. 

Nor gallops about with the neighbours all day. 

Husbands and wives should ever adore ; 

They may live happy though ever so poor ; 
May heaven above increase them with store I 

What do you think of this, ye that arc married ? '^ 

Mr. C.iilott, who many years ago was landlord of the Red Lion, at Heanor, used to tell the following. 
He hail a fancy dog of which his family were very fond. Neddy having to pass the house every morning 



for milk, the dog usually barked at him, to his great annoyance. Neddy used to expostulate with the 
animal, of course to no purpose : so one morning he seized the dog by the back of the neck, carried it 
into an outer building and hanged it. During the process of hanging, Neddy harangued the jjoor dog in 
this fashion. " I told you if you did not behave yourself what I would do : but no, you would keep 
yaffling, yaffling, and yaffling at me, and now you must hang for it.'' When Mr. Gillott became acquainted 
with the facts, he sent for Neddy to give an account for such conduct. He pleaded that he had warned 
the dog, but to no benefit ; but, he added, " if you \vill forgive me, I'll never hang him again." 

Neddy was not without a spice of wit, as was instanced when some relatives of his had played some 
silly joke upon him while asleep — he opened his eyes, and quietly said, " What poor fools you are ! " 

John Fletcher, both a friend and a tormentor of Neddy, was at one time very ill. After recovery, 
meeting him in the street, he said, " Neddy, why came you not to see me when I was sick ? " Says 
Neddy — "I did not come myself, but I sent 3. fool to see s.fool.'" 

On the whole, we may say of this poor Derbyshire oddity — this dwarfish, stunted, frost-bitten sample 
of humanity, that like finer-looking and wiser men, his cup is filled to the brim with griefs, cares, sorrows, 
and joys ; that as he is now prematurely old, he finds the dowaiward road to the grave a hard road to 
travel, and we hope all who have ever amused themselves at his expense, will do all in their power to 
smooth it. 

As we have already said, his oddities and his semi-idiocy are no more his fault than is his short stature, 
and he might justly say — 

" I am as I am, and so will I be ; 

But how tliat I am none knoweth truly ; 
Be it ill, be it well, be I bond, be I free, 
I am as I am, and so will I be." 



I'LL large cities and towns have prominent features — in scenery, in public edifices, and in peculiar 
men. The former are known to the jjublic at large, while a knowledge of the latter is mainly 
confined to residents. And yet no study ought to be more interesting than that of individuality, 

" To him who in the love of nature holds 
Communion with her visible forms, she speaks 
A various language." 

Many men liave no character at all ; they glide along on the surface of society like a chip on the tide. 
Others have character, but it is so near like that of the great mass of men, that it does not distinguish 
them from the rest of the world. A tree standing on a par with its brethren of the forest does not 
attract attention ; but let it tower above all others, or, without great height, acquire an unusual thickness 
of trunk ; or, let it attain all the proportions of a well-developed tree, and be dwarfed in size ; or, let it 
be crooked and gnarled, whatever its size — and it arrests special attention, and becomes, in its day and 
generation, an object of notoriety. 

It is precisely so with individuals of tlie human race. 

Derby and Belper, like other jjlaces, liave not been without their notable characters. Helper Joe, whose 
memory is, we doubt not, still fresh in the minds of most of the old residents of the neighbourhood, is the 
subject of this brief sketch. The accompanying likeness will want no indorsement of its truihfuhiess from 
tliose familiar with the original. 

Belper Joe was one of those half-witted, semi-crazy, but hannless characters, whom phrenologists describe 
as deficient in the organs of coinparison, and causality, and constructiveness, but yet cannot be classed 
as idiotic or insane. He used to pick up a precarious living by selling broadsheets when any particular 
event occurred, or any sensational story was in circulation. But there was nothing permanent in this. 
When he could not sell, he begged — with what success it is hard to tell. There are some characters over 
whom much mystery hangs, and which nobody cares to dispel. Belper Joe was one thus unhappily 

Of the birth, parentage, and bringing up of Joe, we know little, nor do many care to know. How he 
obtained the name of " Belper Joe " is also uncertain, as he was a Derby man, and ended his days in the 
union workhouse in this town. 

When Homer died, seven cities claimed the honour of his birth ; but after Joe had " shuffled off this 
mortal coil," Derby alone claimed the honour of having produced him. 

Joe, like many other geniuses, was not fond of hard work, but necessity sometimes compelled him to 
try it, as a mason's labourer. But it was not in his way. The late George Benson Strutt, Esq., of Belper, 
used to notice him, and would give him work, when he asked for it. One time Joe was told to wheel a 
barrow over a plank to serve a mason of the name of Hallam, and on attemi)ting to wheel it across, down 
fell the barrow, and Joe with it ; yet, although unhurt, lie set up a great bellowing, when Hallam told 
him the barrow had ne eyes, and could not see its way. He then sent Joe to a butcher who lived near 
for two sheep's eyes, which he plastereil on the front of the barrow, and told Joe he would now manage to 
wheel it. But on the second trial he was again unsuccessful, when the noise he made attracted the 
attention of Mr. Strutt, who ha])])encd to be near, and while Hallam was laugliing at Joe he received a 
smart switch fnjm Mr. Strutt's stick on the back, and was told never to jjlague the poor fellow again. 



Old Mr. Jackson, a bookseller resident in Belper, fond of his glass, was returning home one night 
rather lively, when he met Joe, and asked him to come and have some supper with him. Joe never 
wanted asking twice where eating was concerned, and joyfully accompanied him, in the hope of a good 
tuck out, for Joe was a gourmand in his way. On reaching the house the family were gone to bed ; but 
Mr. Jackson went into the cellar for some bread and cheese, and told him to eat as much as he liked. 
Joe, nothing loath, cut off a good slice, and commenced to gratify his gustative organs; but he soon 
began making such grimaces, that Mr. Jackson asked what was the matter. Joe answered, " This is funny 
cheese as youn gen me, mester." " Is it, lad ?" and on examining it, he found Joe had been eating a 
lump of soap ! 

Joe was not a regular mendicant, but had special places to call at, where the inmates used to keep 
scraps of broken victuals for him, and of which he would eagerly devour an unlimited quantity in the least 
possible time. At one house they had kept a large dish of cold potatoes for him, which he ate so greedily 
that he was in danger of choking, and could just cry out, " I want some watter ;" and after many efforts he 
managed to swallow the potatoes. 

Another time, Joe called on a crusty old lady who did not like" to be troubled with him, but he would 
stay, expecting something to be given him. At last, losing patience, she said to him, " Get out of the 
way ; thou art as stupid as an ass I"' Joe turned on her a comically withering look, and replied, " Yo are 
as stupid as two asses !" and ran away. But, generally, poor Joe's retorts were neither very pithy, nor 
well-timed. His mind was too impotent to be sarcastic, and too sluggish to be witty. His face never 
possessed such a sober seriousness as that of " Touchstone," the fool described by Shakespeare in " As 
you like it." Jaques is made to say : — 

" A fool, a fool ! I met a fool i' the forest, • 
A motley fool ; — a miserable world ! 
As I do live by food, I met a fool. 
Who laid him down and bask'd him in the sun, 
And rail'd on lady fortune in good terms, 
In good set terms, — and yet a motley fool. 
Good-morrow, fool, quoth I. No, Sir, quoth he. 
Call me not fool till Heaven hath sent me fortune. 
, And then he drew a dial from his poke, 

And looking on it with lack-lustre eye, 
Says, very wisely, it is ten o'clock : 
Thus may we see, quoth he, how the world wags ; 
'Tis but an hour ago since it was nine ; 
And after an hour more, 'twill be eleven ; 
And so, from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe. 
And then, from hour to hour, we rot and rot. 
And thereby hangs a tale." 

But, as we have already observed, Joe had apparently no philosoph)-, and less \di. 

Wonderful as are the workings of the human mind in its normal or healthy state, there seems to be 
something still more so — something strange, m)-sterious, and puzzling — in its diseased action, as manifested 
in such poor creatures as Belper Joe; and we have often thought that nothing could be more intensely 
interesting than an account given by such a victim, during the lucid inten-al before death, of the opera- 
tions of his brain and feelings during his lifetime. 

Joe's clothes, like his mind, were often in tatters, and were generally worn as long as they held 
together. He was no great patron of the washenvoman, nor were his proclivities towards hydropathy. 
His face betrayed thoughtlessness, but he had few vicious habits. He was the butt and jest of adults and 
boys alike, but he seldom retaliated, as many half-witted creatures do. 

The events and conclusion of his life may be a mystery ; but of the seeming inutility of his existence it 
may be found that, when the clouds have passed away under the clear light of infallible certainty, the still 
and noiseless destiny of Belper Joe has worked out its part in the great problem of humanity as effectually 
as that of the proudest and most famous. 

<JOffN liALLAM> 



j|ORE is to be expected from earnest and laborious mediocrity than from the erratic efforts of 
«a)^vard genius. It is thought that men are signahzed more by talent than by industry. It is 
often thought to be a vulgarizing of genius to attribute it to anything but inspiration from heaven ; 
they overlook the steady and persevering devotion of mind to one subject. There are higher and lower 
walks in the purposes of life ; but the highest and most honest is the walk of earnest labour. We are often 
led to a contrary opinion by looking at the magnitude of an object in its finished state, such as the 
Principia of Newton, Gibbon's Decline and Fall of Rome, or the Pyramids of Egypt, without reflecting 
on the gradual, continuous, creeping progress by which they grew into objects of magnificence in the library 
or physical world. 

These remarks are introductory to the subject of this sketch, who was more remarkable for tenacity of 
purpose than brilliant imaginings. Many of the inhabitants of Derby will remember John Hallam, and 
his eccentric manners. In the early days of Methodism he attached himself to the celebrated leader of 
that sect, and every Monday morning he attended preaching at the early hour of fi\e o'clock, at the house 
No. 32, Full Street. Mr. Hallam himself occasionally preached, in the absence of a minister. He was 
also in the habit of holding forth' in several villages in the neighbourhood, and not unfrequently held 
meetings out of doors, where he was so earnest in his labours, that he would continue speaking until 
midnight, even after every one of his hearers had withdrawn. It was his characteristic that he appeared 
to have felt intensely all he would impress on his hearers. No cold, nor fomial, nor lifeless exjjressions 
escaped from his lips. 

For some years he was also in the habit of attending the Methodist Conferences held at London, 
Manchester, &c. ; but it does not ajjpear that he was ever exclusively connected with that body, as he also 
was accustomed to attend the worship of the Established Church. His disposition was amiable, and his 
conduct inoffensive, but his person and appearance was singular, and his habits eccentric. It was difficult, 
if not impossible, to learn his special religious opinions ; and his practice of always placing himself in some 
very conspicuous situation at church had the api)earance of ostentation. The benevolence of his disposition 
led him for many years to visit prisoners, especially such as were under sentence of death. Much of his 
time was employed in attending the poor and afilicted, to whose relief he contributed not only to the 
utmost extent of his own limited means, but also by soliciting assistance for them from the humanely 

" Thus to relieve the wretched was his pride, 
And e'en his fallings'd to vir^e's side : 
But in his duty proinj)t at every call. 
He watch'd and wept, he pray'd, and felt for all. 
And, as a bird each fond endearment tries, 
To tempt its new-fledged offspring to the skies, 
Ho tried each art, reproved each dull del.iy. 
Allured to brighter worlds, and led the way." 

He was fond of reading, and was sure to be present at any scientific lecture that was delivered in 
Derby, but could scarcely be said to have, or at least to avow, any oi)inion of his own on any subject. 
The habitual evasiveness of his answers to any question is most exactly described by Cowper's character 
of Dubious in his poem on "Conversation." His abstemious habits and eccentric appearance attracted 



considerable attention, especially amongst young people, and \illagers where he was known ; but the 
courteousness of his manners, and his kind attention to children, especially to the afflicted poor, never 
failed to procure for him a cordial welcome. 

" Careless their merits or their faults to scan, 
His pity gave ere charity began." 

His death took place on the 19th of August, 1828, in his eighty-sLxth year. 

The portrait from which the accompanying engraving is taken was obtained, almost by stealth, by 
Mr. Macconnell, a clever artist, then resident in Derby, as Mr. Hallam had a great objection to its being 
painted. The original picture is now in the possession of Mr. Councillor Owen, by whom he was known 
and respected. 

Several gentlemen in the town allowed him free access to their libraries, and he would enter their 
houses and pocket any of the books, and walk off \\-ith them without sa}ing a word to anyone. This 
mutual confidence was never abused. His integrity was such that he was considered the most honest 
man in Derby. It is related that once walking down Sadler-Gate, he saw something glittering on the 
pavement, which, on picking up, proved to be a sixpence. He instantly laid it down again, obser\ang that 
it was not his property, and walked on. 

Many similar signs of character could be given of John Hallam ; but these few hints, together wth 
his portrait, will be sufficient to show that he was one of the stones of our social edifice ; — not a comer 
stone, not an ornamental one, but still one who helped in a small way to make up the world. Man has 
been called a bundle of habits, and Mr. Hallam had some very queer ones : still, as a good man, he 
may, like Othello, claim the pri^lege of having done the world " some service." 


6 V^Afi -* 





N the opposite page we present our readers with a Portrait of Old Rowley, a street character 
of Derby, about the year 1760. We have been unable to obtain further particulars respecting 
him, should any of our readers be able to supply them, we will gladly find them a place in 

our next volume. 



' Alas ! when obscurity covers the Bard, 
Then Fortune oft frowns on his lays ; 
If heart-flowing sympathy deigns to regard 
His simple productions, this is the reward 
Which smooths the decline of his days." 

ijO those who occupy the elevated places of society, and bask in the sunshine of fortune, the masses 
who toil and struggle at the base, present anything but an aspect of hopefulness, as regards 
intellectual or moral jjower. The demands of the humbler classes for a better education and 
political enfranchisement, have hitherto been considered in the light of heralds to a system of universal 
spoliation, anarchy, and in which intelligence and justice would find a common grave. How little room 
for these aspersions, or ground for these apprehensions, has lately been seen by looking at the patient 
heroism with which the toiling millions of Lancashire, Derbyshire, Coventry, Bethnal Green, and other 
places, have borne their lot of forced idleness, or unrewarded toil. The brief sketch of the individual 
here given, teaches this important lesson, that the indications of latent but undeveloped talent, and capacities 
of moral and mental greatness which occasionally break through the clouds of poverty and its concomitant 
influences, prove that every human being in the image of God, ought to receive a fair education at the hands 
of the State, and that mankind ought not to be chained down to the absolute necessity of administering 
only to the most sordid necessities of animal life. 

" Oh ! for the coming of that glorious time. 
When, prizing knowledge as her noblest wealth 
And best protection, this Imperial Realm, 
While she exacts allegiance, shall admit 
An obligation, on her part, to teach 
Those who arc bom to serve her and obey." 

Abraham James, bom December 22nd, 1799, was the son of Joseph James, a school-master of South 
VVingficld, but his father dying when he was only a few years old, and leaving his mother to provide for 
herself, Abraham never enjoyed the advantage of a day's schooling, but was at an early age put to work 



in a stocking-frame to earn his owti livelihood. Thus was he excluded from the beams of learning at his 
outset in life, and accustomed to incessant toil from childhood. But he would not sink under this destiny, 
but strove manfully to emancipate himself from the discouraging circumstances. How in after years he 
felt the necessity which pre-doomed him to a limited education, may be partly gleaned from these 


I never went a day to school, 
To learn the art how to control 
My pen, when I attempt to write. 
Or else you know perhaps I might 
Have learnt the art as well as you, 
Though my capacities are few ; 
What makes me worse, I have no skill, 
To make a pen if I 'd a quill. 

Al>ni. Janus, May l<)tk, 1844. 


I am glad to see those that come to see me. 
For I know their intention is pure, 

Or they would not come twice. 

For I've nought to entice, 
As that makes my visitors fewer. 

Abm. James, May l6tk, 1845. 

But perseverance accomplishes wonderful things, and through it Abraham James taught himself how to 
write after reaching manhood. We have seen many of his efforts to improve himself in the caligraphic art, 
by cop}'ing the writing of others as closely as he could. His was certainly the pursuit of knowledge under 
difficulties ! 

As soon as he felt himself able to support a wife, he married Elizabeth Turner, of the same village, 
whose brother, Joseph, was a stonemason, and who advised Abraham to give up his stocking-making, 
and he would learn him /lis trade. This was duly accomplished, and pro\ed much more lucrative for him. 
Abraham by this time having become studious and thoughtful, and possessing much natural ability, as 
well as the faculty of observation, was looked upon as the oracle of the village, and kept a Record of 
the Births and Deaths of his neighbours, and also a chronolog)' of remarkable occurrences that happened 
in the tillage. He also accustomed himself to the composition of scraps of poetrj' on many events occurring 
in the village, some of which we give, and wliich contain the germs of much humour, intermixed \\-ith 
common sense. The following lines were found in his shoes by the shoemaker to whom they were sent 
for repairs — 

" John Bunting, you these shoes must mend. 
And have them done by this week's end ; 
The soles and heels you must repair. 
And make them me quite fit for wear. 

In working use the hest of leather ; 

Be sure to sew them well together, 

And when you've made these shoes complete. 

Be honest and do not me cheat. 

With reason you must set the price. 
You shall not have to ask for't twice ; 
Thus you'll oblige him who remains 
Your humble ser\'ant, 

Abr.\h.\m James. 


Matthew Turner, a relative, having killed a pig and not having sent him any fry, as is customary amongst 
neighbours, Abraham addressed to him the following lines, protending not to believe that he had killed one. 

South Wingfield, Fcby. ^th, 1845. 
Dear Sir, 

I heard it said the other d.ay, 

(But cannot think it's true,) 
It's hard to credit all they say 

Of either me or you. 
But true or false I heard it said. 

And that by not a few; 
But if one rose up from the dead, 

I'd tell him it's not true. 
They say you've killed your fatted swine 

(But that must be a lie). 
As I've ne'er had a bit of chine, 

Or seen 3 single fry ; 
And thus to make it more perplexing. 

And strengthen their report, 
They say you've sent in each direction, 

Both spare-rib, pie, and pork ! 
Whatever will not people say? 

They can never tliink of dying ! 
Let you, and me, and all men pray. 

To be preserved from lying. 

Matthew Turner answered the foregoing lines by stating that his motto was to give to them who gave 
to him, and that his pig was not so large a one as Abraham's, which was untrue. 
The following was the reply — 

South Wiiigfidd, Fib): wth, 1845. 

Dear Sir, 

You own that you have killed your pig. 
But say it was not quite so big 
As mine, but that's a poor excuse, 
And really is of little use. 
I did not wish to beg your pie. 
Or scraps, or pork, indeed not I, 
But as I was so very poor. 
Together with a many more 
Of your relations, here in towTi, 
You might have sent a little do«Ti. 
When I killed my pig, it's true, 
I did not send a piece to you. 
Fearing that you might be offended, 
And not liave thought yourself befriended. 
And, thus because I did not cram 
One that was full, I now must clam ! 
Well, never mind, that's not my phn, 
I'll act a part more like a man. 
And give to those who can't repay, 
For this is what the .Scriptures say. 
When I killed my pig, ask them all, 
I gave to Fantoms, Coops, and Paul, 
Now these are all your sisters dear. 
Who kill no pig at all this ; 
And yet I could not p.iss them by 
But sent them all a handsome fry. 
Then how could I have acted fairer 
To them, or to your poor Aunt Sarah t 



But now I feel I must give o'er, 
Or I could say a great deal more ; 
My head's so bad I cannot write, 
So I shall bid you now good night. 
But change your "Motto" for the future, 
(Perhaps my nonsense will not suit you,) 
And give to them who daily pine, 
Although they never kill a swine. 

Abraham James. 

Abraham's garden, attached to his o^\'n house, was the picture of neatness in its trim and orderly 
appearance ; and here he had many choice fossils, collected from various places in the neighbourhood ; 
while inside the house he treasured various antiquities which he had collected, amongst which may be 
mentioned a Cannon Ball, and some fragments of Bomb Shells, found while working at the Old Manor 
House, when he was frequently employed in repairing the old fabric and preventing any further decay in 
this fine old Ruin. It was one of his inexhaustible pleasures to explore this old place to search for 
foundations, and give his opinion as to what portions of the original structure they had fonned a part. 
We have often thought how delighted he would have been to have lived in the neighbourhood of Her- 
culaneum or Pompeii, when those remains of past ages were first discovered. 

He had a good eye for the geological and mineral productions of the county, and could describe and 
appreciate the uses of each. En passant, we give the following. 

A man of Crich, the neighbouring village, writing to him, boasted of what that parish contained ; but as 
it contained no coal, Abraham answered him thus : — 

You boast of your Crich what it does but contain ; 

There is Spar, Moss, and Turf, and a long worthless train : 

But if you be sane, I am sure you will yield, 

And say there's no place like to dear South Wingfield. 

It stands on a hill, yet it seems in a hole, . 

And look how the parish abounds with good coal 

To warm you in Winter, in Frost, and in Snow, 

Without which, whatever would starving Crich do. 

About the year 1848, a great spiritual change came over him, and he joined the Wesleyan Methodists, 
of which sect he continued a member until his death. It was to him a great pleasure to visit Derby, and 
inspect our own museum, during which his thoughts appeared to be quite absorbed by the contemplation 
of the objects before him. On one occasion we sent by a friend a grotesque head carved in stone for him 
to place in his garden, and for this present we received the followng poetical letter of thanks : — 

Soui/t Wingfield, Jii/y 19//;, 1862. 
My Dear Sir, 

No words of mine can half express, 

Or tell to you my thankfuhiess, 

For sending me this head of stone, 

Where every feature's neatly shown. 

What could induce my worthy friend 

This handsome present thus to send ? 

Or what could be his kind intent 

To one so insignificant ? 

But when I think from whom descended, 

No wonder I am thus befriended ; 

A family so well disposed, 

The secret is at once disclosed. 

And now I'm at a loss to know, 

What act of kindness I can show ; 

But I must with truth confess, 

I see my utter helplesness. 

Accept my thanks, it's all my store. 

More you should have, if I had more. 

Yours very sincerely. 

To Mr. J. B. Robinson. Abraham James. 


In the foregoing letter reference is made to my own family, who have been residents in the parish of 
South Wingfield for many generations, and which is also my own birthplace. 

Abraham James died June 6th, 1864: his wife still sur\'ives. He had nine children, eight of whom, 
two sons and six daughters, are still living, and are all, with the exception of the eldest son, still residing 
at Wingfield. His death took place after an illness of a few months, and was a most happy one, for he 
died, as he had lived, a good man and a sincere Christian, and now sleeps in the village churchyard, in 
the midst of his own kindred. Unfortunately we are unable to give his portrait, as, we believe, he never 
would have it taken. 

A\e have not left ourselves space to give more of his poetic scraps than the following : — 


Oh, how neatly I can shave me, 

By the looking-glass you gave me, 

For it shows me every feature 

Of a vile and sinful creature. 

Oh, that when I look therein, 

I may see the face of sin 

In its dire and blackest form, 

So that I may shrink therefrom. 

And its consequences dread, 

When I am numbered with llie dead. 



A great earthquaque happened March 17th, 1S16. 

Four men ILinged at Derby, for burning .Mr. Halton's stacks, Augst. 15, 1817. 

In 1829, from the first week in May until the 21st of June, there was no rain, and the weather very hot ; all the pastures were 
burnt up, and there was a very light mow. 

The first load of machinery for the Park Mill was sent for to Manchester, Octr. 13th, 1792, by Alexander Johnson. 

The first turn-out of the Stockingers, .\ugst. 21st, 1819. They resumed work Augst. 2Sth, 1819. 

A terrible high wind did much damage, Deer. 5 & 6, 1822. 

A Fiery Meteor seen at the time the Moon was Eclipsed, Jany. 26, 1823. 

Tlie mild winter preceding the spring of 1824, the ground never covered with snow until the nth of March. 

The well ii) old Hunt's croft laid dry, March 18th, 1824. 

The trees planted in the bull croft, March 27th, 1824, 

The Church Lane Hill finished cutting, July 30th, 1825. 

The Church .Steeple pointed in Octr., 1S25. 

A most terrible hail-storm, which broke nearly ;^too worth of windows in the village, and did several thousand pounds damage 
in the parish. The corn was nearly all destroyed, scarcely an ear left standing ; vast quantities of little birds were 
killed. Many of the hail-stones which fell were as large as pigeon's eggs, and some were larger tlian geese eggs ; and 
notwithstanding the excessive heat of the sun,'' they lay upon the ground four days, before tliey were melted. This 
mournful visitation happened on Saturday, July 1st, 1826, between 5 & 6 o'clock in the evening. 

A dark circle was observed round the sun, July 3rd, 1826. 

The dryness of the summer of 1827, and the effects of the storm on July 1st, 1826, caused hay to sell at the enormous rate of 
from jCi2 to £14 per ton, straw from £4 to ^5 per ton, and potatoes los. to 12s. per bushel. 

Old Mrs. Turner, of Morewood Moor, died December 3rd, 1827, in the lojrd year of her age. 

A large circle round the sun, at 9 in the moniing, and a tremendous storm of thunder and lightning for 7 hours, bcginnuig at 
8 p.m. July 24th, 1829. 

The last week in March, 1830, was uncommonly hot and fine weather, but the first day of April was prodigiously cold ; and 
on the second and third, a great snow fell, to the cicptli of 8 inches on the level ground ; which lay in different places 
till the nth, accompanied with hard frost. Gooseberry and other trees were in full bloom and leaf. 

The road up the Manor hill and over the lawn stopped, May 1st, 1830. 

The well by the turnpike side, on the green, re-opened by Abm. James and George Harvey, April 16, 1830. 

On the 6th of May, 1831, the ground was covered over with snow, and on the 7th there was a sharji frost. 

Colonel Wingfield Halton, Justice of the Peace, died on Friday, Augst. 26lh, 1 83 1, and was interred in the family vault at 
Winglicid, on the Wednesday following, August 31st, 1831. 

Old W'm. Ludlani, of Riber, died June 3rd, 1S32. He was in a trance a few weeks before, and saw a many in both places, 

that he knew. 





IJERBYSHIRE is noted to the naturalist, artist, and antiquarian, for its scenery, hills, dales, ancient 
buildings, Druidical remains, rocks and rivers ; but, as these sketches prove, it is equally noted 
for its multiform phases of the " human form divine," and its various characters jield a 
stronger attraction to the ph)-siologist, phrenologist, and philanthropist, than the study of mere botany, 
ornithology, or natural history. Mental physiognomy, as exhibited in our fellow-creatures, is the most 
interesting of all studies. To the unobservant, the population which pass before him are but as an 
aggregate of humanit)', to be formed into tables of births, marriages, and deaths ; but to the tlioughtful, 
each unit in life's grand account, each individual ripple in the human tide, has its special story, its dis- 
tinctive character. This is why we give a niche in our pantheon to " Rabbi " the racer, and not because 
we have any s}Tnpathy with his tastes or pursuits. 

Although not a sportsman in the technical sense of that term, and never had the slightest taste for 
those amusements associated with betting, cruelty, or vulgarity, yet we are bound to admit the necessity 
of games of agility, manhness, and address, such as cricket, running, leaping, vaulting, ^vTestling, quoits, 
archery, rifle practice, boating, swimming, fencing, and the like. We need not stop to defend such sports, 
or, rather, necessary physical training. Juvenal's line, -^ Mens sano in corpore sano," or, "A sound mind 
in a sound body," is a very full as well as laconic description and defence of bodily training. We consider 
such sports as we have enumerated to be practical training for all pursuits in life ; — to be culture, growth, 
discipline ; to be a preparation for business, for accidents, for casualties, for health. Physical training aims 
at the harmonious development of all parts of the human body, as a means to health of mind, and 
health of the soul. Lycurgus, the ancient Spartan law-giver, was well aware of the advantages of bodily 
training. Through his influence the Spartans paid as much attention to the development of the physical 
structures of human beings as we do to the rearing of cattle. They took charge of the fulness of chest, 
vigour of limb, clearness of eye, and the firmness and looseness of muscle. Therefore, the Spartans and 
Lacedemonians produced the ablest and bravest warriors ; men inured to the fatigues and trials of life, 
and well adapted for times of struggles and wars, and ready and willing to leap into the pass of 
ThermopylE, and defy all aggressors. 

We hail, then, such sports as mentioned ; — such a movement as that of the volunteers, with their 
parades, reviews, drills, sham battles, and so forth. It is both sport and physical training— it is the " cheap 
defence of nations." But we have no taste for battues, dog-fights, pugilism for money, steeple-chases, hare- 
hunting, and the like. They are cruel, useless, and associated witli betting and brutalism. We adopt, very 
nearly, the lines of Cowper : — 

" I would not enter on my list of friends, 
Though graced with polished manners and fine sense, 
Yet wanting sensibility, the man 
Who needlessly sets foot upon a worm." 

These prefatory remarks are not made in the way of cant, but the result of thought and observation. 
It has been justly observed that the inhabitants of the Britannic isles are the hardiest, healthiest, most 
powerful in mind and body, and that there is but one cause for it, viz., their general love of rural sports 

-f- ^ A © © D «^^ 



and athletic exercises. From their cradle to their grave, our rural population are taught to give themselves 
up to out-door amusements, on the mountain and the plain, in woodland and upon water. We may add, 
also, that "all work and no play" will not do for a nation any more than for "Jack;" — they would both 
become dull. 

The items of this sketch of a Derbyshire oddity and runner have been given to us by a friend, but 
they are not complete in many points. We know that Edward Stainesby, alias Rabbi, was bom January 
nth, 1825, — we believe in Derby, but, as we have not scrutinized the parochial ledgers, or the mysteries 
of parentage, we confess our inability to give further evidence on this point. We also avow a similar 
inability to record at what precise period, or by what particular process or accident, our subject received 
the patronymic, or alias, of " Rabbi." 

Of his very early life little is kno\vn, except that he possessed a large share of natural humour, which, 
had he obtained the advantages of a good education, might have ripened into intelligent wit, which, 
according to Swift, is most men's ambition : — 

" All mankind would fain be wits ; 
Millions miss, for one that hits." 

As it is, Rabbi's humour is of a degenerative or vulgar kind, although it is ready and apt, and keeps his 
audience often in a roar. 

At twenty years of age Rabbi stood six feet high and upwards, and was a stalwart, muscular, and well- 
built fellow, and was considered rather good-looking and attractive. Had he possessed as good an 
intellectual and moral training as a bodily one, there can be little doubt but that his c.ireer in life would 
have been very different to what it has been. But, for the want of these advantages, he has merely been 
a waif, a stray, and a drudge. He commenced the industrial portion of his life as a framework-knitter ; 
then became a pedestrian, or foot-racer; aftenvards, a lace-maker, labourer, navvy, green-grocer, collier, and 
hawker of fish, shrimps, mussels, oysters, crabs, &c., &c. Often, even now, after a day's work at the pit, 
or other labour. Rabbi and his sturdy dame, his wife, may be seen with pony and cart about the streets 
vending salt, or other commodities. He seems to be able to turn his hand to anything ; but we fear it 
is only an illustration of the old saying, " Jack of all trades, but master of none 1" 

Rabbi seems to have been more successful as a runner than as a business man ; and, probably, had 
he had an able manager, and had been properly " brought out," something really to his advantage might 
have resulted ; but even his running, although very successful as running, has not been productive of the 
fruits which we sometimes read fall to the professional pedestrian. 

The origin of his professional running, we learn, was as follows. He was appointed one day, when 
about the age of nineteen, to hold the clothes of a person who was about to run a prize race, and when 
the signal was given. Rabbi, who was a few paces in advance, started to nm with the competitors. Although 
Rabbi was in his common working dress, and encumbered also with the garments of one of the runners, 
strange to say, he actually arrived at the goal before any of those professional athletes ! Such a singular 
event could not, of course, go unnoticed, and he very soon found backers in a sport of which he seemed 
so very fitted to excel. He was at once put under training by such men as Tom Prince, of Heanor, 
Joe Anthony, of Arnold, Dick Manks, of Sheffield, and Gough Gillott, of Heanor. Rabbi's first prize race 
came off on Plough Monday, 1845. It v/as a mile race, against Tommy Lee, of Arnold, and was, after 
some dispute and wrangling, decided in favour of Rabbi. He next beat Branbury, of Arnold, one mile. 
He again beat Lee in a mile race ; won two races against Noony, of Carlton ; beat Tranter,, of Derby ; 
beat Marriott, of Hucknall ; beat Chariey Tune in two separate races ; beat Merry Roughton, of Basford, 
in a mile race ; beat Webster, of Shcflield, against great odds ; beat Langdon, of Macclesfield ; and also 
Williams, of Gorton. It proves the stamina and industry with which Rabbi took to his new profession 
when we state all the above matches were made and run in \\-\^ first year o^ his initiation, viz., 1845. Since 
then he has run many prize races with competitors of all kinds, with varied, but generally fair success. 

Rabbi has not only been a noted and very successful level foot-racer, but he has also been a very 
good hurdle-racer and vaulter, a species of gymnastics which we are pleased to observe is very popular 
among the Volunteers of our country. We cannot conceive of a better kind of agility, vitality, and vigour 



for a soldier than what Rabbi possessed ; and there as a soldier is it really and absolutely necessan,-, for 
the overleaping of obstacles, scaling walls, ramparts, barricades, &c. Who has not read of the ten thousand 
Greeks under Xenophon ! This band of warriors were left without commanders, money, or provisions, to 
traverse a space of twelve hundred leagues, amidst constant alarms, and attacks of barbarous and successive 
swarms of enemies. They had to cross rapid rivers, penetrate gloomy forests, scale the summits of rugged 
mountains, and wade through deep snows and pestilent morasses, in continual danger of death, capture, 
and torture. This retreat, carried on in the face of an enemy during two hundred and fifteen days, and 
often engaged front and rear at the one moment, yet we learn that, although this army lost men by the 
weapons of war, by drowning, and perishing in deep snows, yet it did not lose one man by sickness ! Such 
was the result of the gymnastic training and Olympian games of the ancient Greeks. Their sports and 
games developed a race of men noted for strength, address, skill, 'grace, and endurance, which was used for 
the national independence. Alas ! we fear the professional athletes of Britain render but little national 
serv'ice, as their general habits prevents their athletism becoming an example to youth. 

Rabbi, as our readers by this time can foresee, is one of those peculiar geniuses who are from boyhood 
ready for anything except what will be ultimately serviceable. Application to one thing is a bore to them ; 
steady, intermittent labour a perfect horror. So, being ready for anything. Rabbi is quite at home in 
wheelbarrow, donkey, and pony races. A friend of his thus relates Rabbi's share at the Heanor races of 
1864. WTien the horse and pony races were over, a donkey-race was started, in which five ran, and Rabbi's 
Jenny Lind won the first prize of jQ\. On the same day, in another race for a new bridle, two started, 
each rode by the owner, Rabbi upon his " Jenny Lind," and Raynor, the sweep, upon his " Lord Byron's 
Devil." This match was got up purposely for fun ; some hundreds of people were there as spectators, 
bursts of laughter and loud huzzas rang through the air as each rode up to the starting-post. Rabbi 
was a good illustration of Cervantes' Don Quixote and his donkey. There he was, awaiting the signal 
with his feet upon the ground, his Jenny Lind standing at ease under him, while Lord Byron's Devil had 
to carry the full weight of something not very unlike the being he personated. The signal was given, 
and off they started, amidst vociferous shouts and cheers, enough to terrify and frighten the poor long- 
eared animals. Jenny was soon in the advance, leaving the poor "Devil" and sweep to look at her 
hinder parts. Rabbi at intervals eased his darling of her burthen, striding along with her, and keeping 
hold of the reins, while the poor " Devil " had to carry the full weight of its master. 

" As loud huzzas arise, 
Jenny bears away the prize." 

Some time after, 

" He sold his darling Jenny, 
And a pony bought." 

On being asked where he was going to keep it, he exclaimed, " By jingo, it ni\-\'er entered my head that 
it ud \WQX want o\vt to eat !" 

But Time, with his sable wing, flaps over the destinies of nmners and oddities like Rabbi, as it does 
over better men ; and dissipation, irregularity, and excitement ha\e produced their natural effect upon his 
originally fine constitution. In some of his late races he had to acknowledge himself beaten, although 
only after a gallant struggle. His last foot-race, which took place only last August, was for a mile heat, in 
which five started, and there were three prizes of small value. Rabbi was the eldest of the five ; and 
during the race he remembered, if he did not before, that he was now past the meridian of life, and little 
able to cope with younger aspirants. He won the third prize, but was completely prostrated by his 
exertions, and for some time was unable to speak ; but when he did, it was to give utterance to this 
truth — " Now I know that I 'm not so young as I used to be." 

Yes, my poor Rabbi, many philosophers of greater pretentions than you claim, have made the discovery 
of a faded and wasted life, just when it is too late — ^just years after all their acquaintances and friends 
have known that their lungs and general system have wasted away. But Rabbi's case, if it accomplishes 
nothing else, " points a moral," though it may not " adorn a tale." It is the curse of our social system, 
that our education is either all one way or another; it is ever in extremes. Thus, our youth are either 



mentally trained to death, and become a race of dyspeptics, consumptives, and nen'ous fidgets, and there- 
fore unmanly and short-lived ; or, they become athletes at the expense of their intellects, and turn bullies 
and blackguards. Shakespeare himself notes this fact; he draws the healthy King Richard ist as the 
"lion-hearted," and King John, the dyspeptic, as a "craven coward." Wliat is wanted, is i fair mixture 
of physical with mental and moral education ; then we should not have such cases as no'v recorded — that 
of a man of splendid physical conformation, and natural but uncultivated mental ability, approaching the 
limit of existence, without the satisfaction of feeling that he had either rendered himself or his country a 
particle of solid benefit. 

In Rabbi's incidental career, we hear that his notoriety as a racer has sometimes been of service to 
him in cases of necessity. For instance, on going one time to Thringston hurdle-races, and being without 
a copper, he made himself known to some of the sporting fraternity, when a collection was made on the 
spot, and a very handsome sum presented for present use and to carry him home. So, also, when in the 
year 1862, he went to see the Industrial Exhibition of all nations, held in London; although with only 
sevenpence in his pocket, yet, through the influence of that fellow-feeling existing among sporting characters, 
he not only fared well in London, and had ten shillings in pocket when he reached home, but, had he 
remained in the metropolis, his admirers would have got up a benefit for him. 

Let us hope, that as age creeps upon this Derbyshire oddity, and he becomes unable to follow any 
of the numerous avocations now available, some of those lovers of racing will remember his younger days, 
and bespeak, among //la'r public, sympathy and assistance for him. 



OPE has remarked, that the "proper study of mankind is man;" and Lord Bacon once observed, 
that it would be a beneficial task to collect the oddities of human nature from the faithful 
reports of histor)'. Sustained by these high authorities in favour of perpetuating such characters 
as that of the present sketch, apology is superfluous. That men are more influenced by example than by 
precept, there is no doubt, and some memoirs we have given, are of persons who are very worthy 
exemplars of any age ; but it also falls to our lot to sketch others, who have been noted more for 
eccentricity, simplicity, cunning, craft, or a species of insanity; though, of course, these failings or weak- 
nesses are not held forth as worthy of imitation. 

Among those characters which deserve attention, not for any speciahty of simplicity or depravity, but 
for a shrewd kind of lunacy, Mr. Samuel Eyre — better known by the soubriquet of " Daft Sammy, the 
castle guide" — may well occupy a prominent place. Portraits of such persons, with some traits of their 
character, are gratifying to their neighbourhoods, not so much from any useful lesson to be derived there- 
from, as for their being objects of curiosity. We turn to them, just as the philosopher, who loves to 
contemplate the beauties of creation, adverts sometimes to the delineation of any uncommon object, or 
to the sportive productions of nature, in her occasional deviations from her general laws. 

As every nation has its favourite saint, so, every village has its notability; and any of our readers 
who have visited Cast/eton, must be acquainted with the subject of this sketch, Daft Sammy. We say, 
" must be acquainted," for Sammy makes it his special care and business to become acquainted with 
every visitor to Castleton ; let him enter the place how he will, on horseback, carriage, or on " Shanks' 
mare;" by the eaet, west, north, or south, no matter the direction, Sammy is sure to be encountered. 
His habits may be said to be a compound of the civic and the savage. Some people have even supposed, 
that Sammy, from his activity, possessed the power of ubiquity ; for, certainly, when you least expect him, 
he is upon you. Like the ancient barons of the Rhine, he considers himself entitled to levy black mail 
upon all comers; and, like the robber-lords of the feudal ages, Sammy levies right and left with a com- 
mendable impartiality ; which, if imitated in other walks of life, would be very exemplary. All is fish that 
comes to his net ; for, once get within the range of Sammy's keen, searching grey eye, "stand, and deliver" 
is the word; and the tender of a few coppers is needed to satisfy his claims. But every quid has a quo ; 
and Sammy, once satisfied, like the chivalrous knights- errant of old, or of Rob Roy, of Scottish fame, 
allows you the freedom of the place, and you may wander about after^vards, at your own' sweet will. 
Sammy certainly is the undisputed sovereign of Castleton. 

Sammy is an anomalous creature. He seems to dwell ever)^vhere about Castleton, and yet appears 
to abide nowhere. He is literally a man about toun — a man of the town — a man on the town — an erratic 
star — a bird of passage — a comer and goer — an oscillating biped — an animated locomotive. As a co- 
temporary pubhcation has it,* " Sammy knows everything and everybody in and about Castleton ; he is 
acquainted with all the most convenient and least dangerous paths, whence the best views are to be 
obtained ; and shews you everything worth seeing. He is, moreover, well up in the traditions of the 
place, and relieves the tedium of a toilsome walk, by relating them, together with numerous anecdotes, 
of which latter, he seems to possess an inexhaustible store, all unquestionably original ; never forgetting, 
by the way, to remind you of the advantages of having a guide who understands his duties ; and winding 

• Croston's " On Foot throu"h the Peak." 


■Mtf $mm\- 

Oast i_ e t o rsj 



up, by telling you of the liberal gift he had received from a "party," whom he had, just before, had the 
honour of accompanying through the castle ; this, of course, without the slightest intention of challenging 
your generosity. But it is when escorting a party of ladies that Sammy api)ears most to advantage. He 
has a great affection for the sex, and, in their service, spares no personal exertion to please. He is never 
wearied of walking or talking ; and will do anything and everj-thing that may be required of him, with 
the utmost willingness. His gallantry at times, too, is quite overpowering ; he will, without regard to age 
or amplitude, carry a lady across a gully, help her o\er a stone wall, hand her down a precipice, or assist 
her up one, with a delicacy and easy gracefulness, not to be surpassed by the most accomplished 

Sammy, we see, is not without his uses ; indeed, in his own estimation, Castleton could not get along 
without him ; and we dare say, the good people of Castleton could not look with contempt or indifference 
to the disappearance of poor Sammy from their locality. 

In the days of stage coaching, when the coach used to pass through Castleton from Sheffield to Buxton, 
it was customary for Sammy to lay in wait for the passengers who got off, to walk up the hilly road over 
Mam Torr. Here Sammy would gravely stretch out his hand, and request a passenger to take hold of 
it, and for the next to lay hold in a similar manner, until they were all in a line, when Sammy would pull 
with all his strength, to get them up the hill. Having resorted to this mode of leverage for a long time, 
Sammy's coat, which some would take hold of, became so rent and torn, that it lost its original colour, as 
he added patch after patch, of all forms and shapes. Some of the visitors, jocularly inclined, asked him 
"where he had bought his coat?" He said, he "never had bought it." "Where, then, did you meet 
with it?" Why, said Sammy, "I took it in in numbers." 

Sammy used to live with his mother, who, like himself, went about begging ; and one morning, Sammy 
had, as usual, fastened himself on a party of visitors, who, observing the old woman following, asked Sammy 
if he knew who she was. "Oh," said he, "it's some poor owd woman or other; gey her a sixpence." 

Sammy always keeps his money in his hands ; and has only once been known to lend any. This was 
when Mr. Tym happened to be short of change for some visitors at the Blue John mine, and Sammy being 
near, he asked him to lend him ten shillings ! This, to his wonderment, Sammy did ; but, after paying 
them, Sammy kept him in view; and Mr. T., seeing that he wanted his money back, gave him a /la/f- 
sovereign. Sammy, however, would not have that ; and raved, and stormed, and threw it down, declaring 
he would have the same sort of money (siher) which he had lent him. He could not understand that one 
small piece of gold should be worth so many pieces of silver. 

Sammy used to gel into a sack to sleep, and draw it over his head, and sleej) with his money in his 
hands. He has been many times asked what he thought about another world ; but the only answer to 
be got from him is, " I ne'er say nowt to noboddy abaat that." 

We had some trouble to obtain Sammy's portrait. In the first effort, as soon as a sketch of his hat 
was made on the paper, he heard some visitors passing the house, and off he bolted ; and no more good 
could be done that day. At last, after many delays, we obtained a photograph, from which the accom- 
panying portrait is taken. 

Sammy's occupations, dodges, and sayings are as varied as his life is chequered. We would gladly 
advert to many little incidents in his simple-witted career, but space will not allow it It is ])leasant to 
reflect upon the fact, that creatures of his class enjoy an immunity, denied them in a more barbarous era. 
In the " good old times," the semi-idiotic were made the malicious sport of every thoughtless man or 
boy, out of mere wantonness ; or, if the parish authorities took them in hand, it was to subject the unhappy 
creatures to the manacle and the lash. Let us be thankful that an enlightened Christianity teaches us to 
regard them with pity and forbearance. Long may this harmless monomaniac live to collect his black 
mail ; which, while it is a source of existence to himself, is no great offence to anybody. 




T has often been admitted that no country produces more eccentric characters than Britain. This 
acknowledgment is, however, only a proof of the freedom of the laws which we enjoy ; as every 
individual is suffered to be at large, and gratify his whims, fancies, and caprices, pro\ided they 

are not prejudicial to his fellow-creatures. 

It has also justly been said by one of our greatest bards, that 

" Great wit to madness ofc is near allied ; 
And thin partitions do tiie bounds divide." 

These lines may, not inaptly, be applied to the eccentric character, whose portrait is here annexed. These 
human curiosities are by no means without their use. \\'hen the reader contemplates such characters as 
Jacky Turner, who, not without brains, and a certain logical turn, yet, from the deprivation of the early 
advantages of moral and educational training, and having only been accustomed to association with the 
silly and the stupid, sink into an idiotic condition, and become unfitted for any noble purpose ; and die, 
without ever having had their consciousness awakened to the highest objects of existence. 

Jacicy Turner was, we believe, born in Derby ; but little is known of his bringing, or rather, " dragging 
up;" and we have not troubled ourselves to search into the secrets of the "heralds' office" for his family 
arms, which, no doubt, were a broadsheet and a bundle of cut straws, emblematic of his pursuits in life ; 
neither does the court calendar inform us concerning his family, or their comings or goings ; so we must 
rest contented by knowing, that to Derby belongs the honour of his birth, his residence, and his burial- 

Jacky's costume was unique ; he generally wore an immense broad-brimmed hat, a scarlet coat with gold 
lace, and blue waistcoat ; the worn and discarded garments of one of the royal mail guards. Leather 
breeches, worsted stockings, and very large laced-up shoes, completed his apparel. He had a very promi- 
nent hooked nose, an inverted mouth, and a pointed chin ; and his gait was in keeping with his general 
appearance, slovenly ; and when walking, always appeared as if falling forw-ards. He was generally to be 
seen with a bundle of short cut straws tucked under his arm, which he pretended to sell to his customers, 
while he made believe to give away the publications he had for disposal at the time. 

Had Jacky lived in these enlightened days, when cheap newspapers are ever}-where diffused, he would 
have found his occupation gone. Cheap literature has pervaded the smallest of villages, and penny papers, 
and even halfpenny ones abound ; but this was not the case in Jacky's time. Then, newspapers were 
high-priced, had but few purchasers, and often, several people combined to purchase a weekly journal, and 
read it in turn. Of course there were thousands, nay, millions of people who never read a newspaper of 
any sort. When any remarkable event happened, to attract general interest. Broadsides, or large sheets 
were printed off, and hawked about the town. These sheets generally had some WTCtched *ood-cut at the 
top, which was often made to do duty over and over again, whether adapted to the printed matter or not. 
Jacky's vocation was to perambulate the to^ii and county with these broadsides ; and many must remem- 
ber his eccentric appearance and manners while travelling his rounds. And who will say that he was 




not useful in his clay and generation? Was he not the flying newsman of his time? Was it not his 
peculiar vocation to vend and distribute penny and halfpenny historical abridgments of his country's 
glory ; of battles fought, murders committed, and murderers executed ? And if his harsh, cracked, blatant 
voice, which shouted forth the news to eager listeners, was not the clear silver trump of Fame, it was at 
least her tin horn. It was such as he who carried the news into the cellar and the garret ; and albeit 
the news were weak and rude, they were better than none. 

Jacky possessed no small amount of tact, in his efforts to dispose of his literary wares to advantage. 
He always determined to be heard, and to be listened to; and very often puffed his treasures in a style 
and manner that naturally attracted attention, if not a purchase. Some of his modes of exciting public 
curiosity bordered upon the witty and the humourous. We append a specimen or two. 

" This is a thing that is witty, pretty, comical, and diverting ; being a dialogue between a white coal- 
heaver* and a black dusty miller. Here's six penrtorth o' fun, twelve pennorth o' laughing, and eighteen 
pennorth o' diversion ; all for the small charge of a hapenny. Buy a straw, and I'll give you a book." 

" Almanacks, Almanacks, Poor Robin's Almanacks ; Almanacks new, more lies than true." 

" Last dying speech and confession ; birth, parentage, and education ; life, trial, and behaviour of 
the poor unfortunate man who was executed this morning at Derby, for the awful murder of &c. &c." 

" A true and correct list of all the running horses ; names, weights, and colours of all the riders ; and 
how they came in ever}' heat yesterday." 

Jacky was as well known in the neighbouring towns and villages as in Derby, and although both 
himself and his occupation are gone, yet should he not pass away unremenibered. He was a harmless and 
even a useful minister in a certain state of society; and humble as he was, yet was he a forerunner of 
cheap news and cheap general literature. 


VER-HADDON, in the parish of Bakewcll, was the birth-place and residence of Martha Taylor, 
the celebrated fasting damsel ; relating to whom, there are as many as four pamphlets extant.t 
It is said that she began to abstain from food on the 22nd of December, 1667 (being then in 
her eighteenth year), in consequence of the effects of a blow, received some years before ; but her illness 

• This related to Sam Slater, landlord of the Dusty miller, and dealer in coals, who had omitted, on one occasion, to love 
and cherish his wife. 

t The titles of the pamphlets are as follow : " Newes from Derbyshire, or the Wonder of all Wonders that ever yet was 
printed ; being a relation of the handy work of Almighty God, shown upon the body of one, Martha 'I'aylor, living about a mile 
or something more from Bakewell, in Derbyshire, hard by a pasture, commonly called Haddon p.isturc. This maid, as it hath 
pleased the Lord, she hath fasted forty weeks and more, which may very well be call'd a wonder of all wonders ; though most 
people who hear this may censure this to be some fable, yet if they please but to lake pains to read over the book, 1 hope 
that they will be belter satisfied, and have some faith to believe. This maid is still .ilive, and hath a watch set over her, by 
order of the Earl of Devonshire. Written by me, T. Robins, li. of T). (Bellman of Derby), a well-wisher to the Gospel of 
Jesus Christ. London, Octr. 13, 166S." 

" The Wonder of the World : being a perfect relation of a young maid, about eighteen years of age, which hath not tasted 
of any food this Iwo-and-fifly weeks from the present day of my writing. Deer. 22, 1668, &c. : wherein is rel3t/.-d the whole 
truth and no more, as it was taken from the mouth of the damsel and her mother; being a true account of her condition, by 
T. Robins, &c. London, 1669." 

" A discourse upon prodigious abstinence : occasioned by the twelve months' fasting of Martha Taylor, the famous Derby- 
shire damosell ; proving, that without any miracle, the texture of human bodies may be so altcr'd, that life ni.iy be long 
continued, wilhout the supplies of meat and drink ; with an account of the heart, and how far it is interested in the business 
of fermentation. By Joseph Reynolds. Humbly offered to the Koyal .Society." 

"Mirabile Pecci : or the Xon-such Wonder of the Peak, in Darbyshire ; discovcr'd in a full iho' succinct narrative of the 
more than ordinary parts, piety, and preservation of Martha Taylor, one that hath been supported in time above a year, beyond 
the ordinary course of nature, without meat or drink. By II. A. Printed for Parkhurst & Co., London." 



is said not to have commenced till the end of August, or the beginning of September, preceding. The 
last pamphlet was published March 30th, 1669, when it appears that she was living, and continuing to 
fast. Her face is described as plump and ruddy; her pulse as even and lively. It is said, that after she 
had left off eating, she once swallowed part of a fig, which had nearly proved fatal to her; that she had 
none of the usual secretions after the beginning of 1668; nor was there any moisture in her mouth or 
nose ; that the vertebrae of her back might be felt through the abdomen ; that she had very little sleep, 
and was once -wholly without sleep for five weeks. It appears that she underwent two watches ; having 
been attended by from forty to sixty women, who watched her strictly night and day. One of these watches 
was appointed by the neighbouring townships ; the other by the Earl of Devonshire. In the Parish Regis- 
ter is an entry of the burial of "Martha, daughter of John Taylor, June 12, 1684." If the entry records 
the burial of this young woman, she survived the publication of the last pamphlet fifteen years. We have 
no account of the sequel, whether she was detected as an impostor, or whether she was a real sufferer, 
and, having recovered, returned to her usual habits. 





Santa Barbara 


Series 9482 


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