shores with defenders, is felt from the extremities to the very heart of the country; and, not only do towns and villages pour forth their hundreds or their thousands to the general aggregate, but indis vidual landlords and manufacturers arm a portion of their tenantry or their workmen in the grand cause. Drums and fifes are now frequently breaking the silence of these delightful retreats-and almost every day we see the hatters of Lea-wood marching and counter-marching; and using every means to prepare themselves for a struggle, which, I trust, will, after all, never take place. It is truly cheering to witness the amor patriæ thus running from breast to breast-but it is also an awful sight. One cannot help weeping over that strange infatuation that makes creatures who call themselves rational, almost in love with deeds of " violence and wrong." Merciful God! Father of the universe, and author of all good! when shall these times of ignorance and barbarity terminate! When shall the Heavenly Dove hover, with prevailing energy, over a distracted world-hush every tumult to peace, and banish from the hearts of thy children even the remembrance of hostility! To you, my friend, I make no apology for the introduction of such sentiments as these-I am sure your feelings in this case are in exact unison with mine. Once more farewell. LETTER XI. MY DEAR MADAM, Birmingham, August 26, 1803. THE "Toyshop of Europe," as it has been styled, is the place from which I now address you. Our journey from Lea-wood hither was pleasant, and interrupted by no accident-this letter, and perhaps another, will be dedicated to an account of the places through which we passed. What an emblem of human life is a journey! We enter a succession of places, one after another-we stay a while, look about us, and pass on-in a majority of these places, no trace of our ever having visited them remains, and, in a little time, those that knew the most of us, know us no more. We quitted Lea-wood early in the morningas we passed through Cromford the factory bell was ringing its morning summons, and a great number of young persons of both sexes were bending their steps to the scene of their daily labours. A great variety was visible in the looks and the dress of the several individuals-some were tripping along with cheerfulness and vivacity, they were evidently the children of industry; and the superior neatness of their attire, and liveliness of their countenances, were proofs of the value of those habits to the comfort of existence-others, and I am sorry to say, far the greater number, ragged and spiritless, were creeping along, with the traces of languor and disinclination to the discharge of an ungrateful task. It must ever be the portion of the great bulk of mankind to labour for their daily bread, and nothing but such views of the present state, as RELIGION rightly understood can impart, will reconcile them to this constitution of things-of what infinite importance then is it, that a religious education should be diffused as widely as possible amongst the rising generationand what real benefactors of mankind are those individuals who, with a judicious perseverance, dedicate much of their time and talents to this great object. They are patriots of the highest order; and, in the temple of true glory, their names will be recorded with the pen of immortality. From Wirksworth to Derby the country assumes a less bold, indeed, but a more rich and cultivated face than what we had been accustomed to for the last three weeks; this cultivation increased as we approached the capital of the county-and at this period, to adopt a poetical phrase, it was "waving with vegetable gold." The harvest is now almost over, even in the North. With heart-felt joy we remark what a plentiful one it has been. In all ages, the termination of this season, under the appellation of Harvest-home, has been a time of festivity and glee. The mode of celebration will differ as times and manners change, but it is a dictate of nature to rejoice when a kind Providence is annually heaping the table of the world with plenty. To the devout heart, Harvest-home is a feast of gratitude to the Almighty. It is amusing to reflect in what manner our ancestors used to distinguish this season. 66 Hentzner, who was in England at the close of the 16th century, says, as we were returning to our inn, we met some country people celebrating their harvest-home: their last load of corn they crown with flowers, having, besides, an image richly dressed, by which, perhaps, they signify Ceres; this they keep moving about, while the men and women, and the male and female servants riding through the streets in the cart, shout as loud as they can till they arrive at the barn." Another foreign writer also tells us, that he saw in England the country people bring home, (from the harvest-field, I presume he means,) " a figure made with corn, round which the men and the women were promiscuously singing, and preceded by a piper or a drum.” "In the north," says Mr. Brand, in his Observations on Bourne's Vulgar Antiquities," not half a century ago, they used every where to dress up a figure, (somewhat similar to that just described) at the end of harvest, which they called a Kern-baby, plainly a corrup tion of corn-baby." Some of these circumstances relating to harvesthome are illustrated in a dramatic piece, called "Summer's last Will and Testament," written by Thomas Nash, 1600, in which Harvest, personified, enters," with a scythe on his neck, and all his reapers with siccles, and a great black bowle, with a posset in it, borne before him ;" they come in singing, "Merry, merry, merry, cheary, cheary, cheary, Hey derry, derry, with a poupe and a lerry, And we have brought Harvest This song, after a conversation between Summer, Autumn, Winter, and Harvest, is repeated; after which, Summer thus speaks of Harvest : "Well, go thy waies, thou bundle of straw; I'll give thee this gift, thou shalt be a clowne while thou livest. As lustie as they are, they run on the score with George's wife for their posset; and God knows who shall pay Goodman Yeomans for his wheat sheafe: They may sing well enough— Trowle the black bowle to me, Trowle the black bowle to me; for a hundred to one but they will bee all drunke e'er they go to bedde: yet of a slauering fool, that hath no conceyte in any thing, but in carrying a wand in his hand, with commendation when he runneth by the high-way side, this stripling Harvest hath done reasonable well, O that somebodie had had the wit to set his thatcht DD |