Part 6

Young and foolish as I was, I felt that I had given him cause of just complaint, although I thought his conduct displayed an unnecessary and unbecoming rigour, in refusing me such an indulgence in the first instance? My eldest sister implored me to endeavour to conciliate my father, and informed me how uneasy he had been since my first departure, and what a wretched house they had had at home. But his determined aspect at leaving me, the threats which he held out, and the peremptory tone in which he ordered me to depart from his house, appeared to me to admit of no alternative; and therefore, with a desperate determination I hastened up stairs, and packed up a small portmanteau, and, in less than half an hour, in spite of the entreaties of my sister, I was mounted upon my own horse, and took a final leave, as I expected, of that home where I had passed so many delightful happy days.

As I embraced my afflicted sister, who had fainted upon seeing my determination, and who was now relieved by a flood of tears, I could not refrain from calling aloud upon the angelic spirit of my dear departed mother, who had she been alive this dreadful calamity had never befallen me or our family. I tore myself from my sister, who was in an agony of grief, and who now upon her knees implored me to think of my father, and how miserable my leaving home again, under such distressing circumstances, would make him; she used all the arguments which her reason could suggest, to persuade me that it was my duty to bear with his temper, and to submit to his will, however arbitrary. But, as I was now of age, and as I had laboured incessantly in my father's business for nearly five years, and had scarcely ever left it for a day, I was mortified at his unnecessary severity, in denying me the privilege of a day or two upon such an occasion; and, besides, as my father's temper was very much altered since the death of my mother, and my home was become not at all comfortable of late, I was unfortunately not in the humour to brook such harsh treatment; nor indeed, did I know how it was possible for me to remain after his determined behaviour at quitting me. I therefore, most unwisely and most imprudently, started off as I thought to seek my fortune; determined, at all events, if I could not live in my father's house, that I would leave the kingdom.

I rode to Bath, a distance of thirty miles, in about three hours, whence, having baited my horse, I rode forward to Bristol, where I arrived and put up at the White Lion, in Broad-street, about eight o'clock; having ridden from Portsmouth to Bristol, a distance of ninety five miles, in about thirteen hours. I was not known to any one at the inn, nor to any one in Bristol except a Mr. Gresley, of whom my father rented Littlecot Farm. I found him out immediately, and he received me with great kindness, expressing himself most happy to see me, as he had repeatedly given me invitations to come and visit him. I carefully concealed the rupture with my father, and, very luckily for me, I was in very good hands, as my friend, although an easy voluptuary, was nevertheless an amiable and a good-hearted man, and took care to check instead of encouraging me in any soft of debauchery, which a youth of my age was so likely to fall into in such a profligate city.

I began the very next day to look out for some situation amongst the captains of vessels outward bound, and I was soon introduced to a very worthy man, a friend of Mr. Gresley's, who, in the course of ten days, was about to sail to Africa in the command of a vessel upon the slave trade. I soon imparted to him my wish to go abroad in some active situation; but I bound him to secrecy, even with my friend Gresley. He professed to be very much pleased with me, but endeavoured, by every means in his power, to prevail upon me to abandon my design; and he pointed out to me, in very glowing colours, all the miseries and all the perils which were incident to a sea-faring life, and did every thing that he possibly could, to persuade me to return to my father's house. At length I told him that I was irrevocably determined to look out for a situation, and to close with the first captain who would give me a birth, and the longer the voyage the better I should be pleased with it; for I was resolved upon leaving England, as I could not bear the thoughts of remaining in this country, and an alien from the house of my father. At last, after he had ascertained that I was immutably resolved to go to sea, he at once made me an offer of taking me out as his clerk and cabin friend. I jumped at the offer, but told him that I had but little money, and was, perhaps, ill prepared for such a voyage. He then made one more trial to prevail upon me to return, but with as little success as before. Finding that it was in vain to reason any further, he then said that be would equip me the next morning, at his own expense, with all the necessary clothing, &c. &c. for the voyage; and he added, that if he were successful, of which he had no doubt, he would pay me something handsome for my services, which he anticipated would be very valuable to him.

The morning came without my having closed my eyes, I having been entirely occupied the whole of the night with the thoughts of my undertaking, to which I looked forward with the greatest enthusiasm, regardless of the atrocious occupation upon which I was about to enter. In fact, it did not once occur to me, that the slave trade was any worse than any other trade, so little had I thought upon it, and so little did I know of the nature of it at that time. Thousands being engaged in it, who were protected by the laws, it never came into my head that I was about to commit any moral crime. Indeed, I was driven to such a state of desperation by the quarrel which I had had with my father, and was so indignant at what I thought his cruel treatment, that I was a fit subject for any enterprise, even had it been ten times more desperate than that in which I was about to engage; and, having once made up my mind to the thing, I thought of nothing else till my trunk of clothes was ready and on board. That being effected, I went down with the captain, and took possession of my cabin and birth in the vessel, which lay off King's-road, and, as she was ready to sail with the first fair wind, I should have staid on board had not the captain insisted upon my taking leave of Mr. Gresley, and sending my horse back to my father. Although I considered the horse as my own, and had been offered thirty guineas for him, yet such was the liberality and proper feeling of the captain, that he absolutely refused to take me unless I returned the horse, and I consequently, in his presence, hired a man to take him off the next morning.

I was to see Mr. Gresley by appointment at the White Lion at nine o'clock that evening, and was to go down with the captain, at eight the next day, to the vessel, which was to weigh anchor at ten, and drop down the Bristol Channel with the tide. The wind being fair, we expected to be off Ilfracombe the same night. Every thing was arranged; I had written home, and taken leave of my father and my sister, lamenting the cause, but rejoicing in the prospect, of my voyage; I had drank tea with the captain, and was anxiously waiting the arrival of our mutual friend Gresley to break the affair to him, and at the same time to take leave of him, when the waiter announced a gentleman enquiring for Mr. Hunt. I rose to receive, as I supposed, my friend Gresley, and was prepared to give him a brief explanation of my intentions, when, lo! who should walk in but an intimate friend of my father's, who had just arrived in his own carriage from Bath, in search of the fugitive. He immediately produced a letter from my father, not only inviting my return home, not only promising forgiveness to me, but actually intreating my forgiveness for his harshness towards me, and imploring me to hasten home, and relieve him from the terrible state of misery to which my absence had reduced him. The language of his letter was such as would have melted the heart of a much more hardened offender than I was--but, I had made an engagement with the captain, and I told my father's friend that I was sorry that he was come too late, but that no consideration whatever should make me run from the engagement which I had contracted with him, at my own particular request. It is true that I felt an irresistible impulse to embrace my beloved father again; that to be restored to his good opinion was a treasure to me, far surpassing all and every prospect that my sanguine hopes had painted in the most vivid colours upon my enthusiastic imagination, and that I felt for a moment a struggle between honour and duty; yet, I am almost ashamed to relate it, but the truth must be told, that I instantly declared that as I had gone so far, no power on earth should deter me from fulfilling my engagement with Captain ----. This worthy, warm-hearted, and disinterested fellow, however, instantly protested, that under such circumstances, with such a prospect of my being restored to my family and friends, nothing in the world should induce him to take me with him.

At this moment, my friend Gresley arrived, and heard, from the captain and my father's friend, my obstinate resolve with the greatest astonishment. He assured me that, unless I instantly gave up all thoughts of going, he would get a warrant from his friend, the mayor, to detain me by force. This was, however, unnecessary; for, after the captain's generous and manly avowal, I yielded without farther delay to the earnest entreaties of all present, and I believe that the worthy captain felt as much real delight and happiness at the result as anyone of the party. My father's friend offered to pay the captain for any expence that he had been put to on my account, but the latter positively refused to take a farthing, adding, that he should sell what he had provided for me for two hundred per cent. profit, and that he would rather lose two hundred per cent. than forego the pleasure he felt at the idea of a reconciliation, between his young friend and his father.

The kindness of my father's letter had a great effect upon me; the expressions of sorrow which it contained at my departure, and the assurance, that he would be completely miserable till my return, recalled all his former kindness to me, and I would instantly have set out on my way home, although it was now dusk, and it rained in torrents, I had already ordered my horse to be saddled--that horse which I had the same evening paid a man twelve shillings to take back to my father's house without his master, I was now eager to mount myself, that I might fly to receive my parent's blessing, and acknowledge my error in disobeying his commands. But my friends all entreated me to defer my departure till the morning, to which I reluctantly consented, and retired to bed about twelve o'clock, after having taken a most affectionate leave of the worthy, generous, and kind-hearted captain. Good God! how often have I been since rivetted to the earth, as it were with astonishment, when I contemplated such a man being employed upon such a cruel, unjust, unchristian, murderous traffic as that of the slave trade!

I certainly retired to my bed, having ordered the ostler to get my horse ready by three o'clock; but no rest did I obtain. For the first time in my life, I now learned what it was to go to bed without being able to go to sleep; for two long hours, I tossed and turned about a thousand times, but deep had flown from my eyes. I heard the quarters strike, and the watchman go his lonely round; my thoughts were all at home, and I was wretched till I threw myself at my poor distressed father's feet, to claim with a certainty of receiving his blessing and forgiveness. I, who, but a few hours before, expected and intended to bid farewell to my native land, and to leave behind me all that was dear and valuable to me in this world; I, who was prepared to sail the next morning, almost without regret, and had thoughtlessly undertaken to become one of those who were the most horrid and most unnatural of all unnatural and horrid thieves and murderers; I, who should have gone to bed and slept as sound as a rock under such circumstances till I was called in the morning, could not, now I was about to return to my kindest friends, and to make myself and my father happy, I could not sleep one moment. Gracious God! upon what a precipice had I stood! from what a world of misery was I rescued, by the kind hand of Providence! for if I had gone upon such an errand, and if I had been instrumental in robbing one human being or fellow creature of his life, or of what was more valuable to him--his LIBERTY, it would afterwards have been to me a source of never-failing misery. Thank God! I was saved from that pang. Had my father's messenger come twelve hours later, I should have been sailed, and in all probability have been a participator in such crimes as I should never have forgiven myself, for having joined in committing.

The clock struck two; I could remain in bed no longer; I jumped up, and having found my way into the yard, I roused the ostler, and having got my horse saddled, I passed Temple Gate just as the clock struck three; and without drawing bit more than once, I reached home before nine o'clock, a distance of forty-five miles. My father and my sister met me at the door; but to attempt to describe the affecting reconciliation would be only doing an injustice to my own feelings. My poor father, however, would scarcely allow me to offer any apology for my undutiful behaviour; he took all the blame to himself; he had reflected more than I had upon the consequences of my voyage, the full particulars of which I found he knew, he having received an account of my every movement, and known all my plans, which had in confidence been communicated by the honest captain to Mr. Gresley, that he might apprise my father of them and endeavour by all the means in his power to procure for me, if possible, a reconciliation before he sailed; he being resolved to convince himself that all hopes of that desirable object were fruitless ere he permitted me to accompany him. This was an instance of the most disinterested friendship, and I have every reason to believe that he even delayed the sailing of the vessel for several days, in order to give time for Mr. Gresley to send to my father. This information Mr. Gresley communicated without delay, and my father no sooner received it, than he dispatched a confidential messenger, his neighbour, Mr. John Coward of Enford, with a strict injunction not to spare any pains to find me, and to hasten my return home.

My Father who had hitherto, since the death, of my mother, conducted himself towards me with a degree of austerity and rigid discipline not altogether calculated to conciliate my hasty disposition, now relaxed his usual strictness, and ever afterwards proved himself not only a kind parent, but an indulgent and sincere Friend.--He lamented upon this occasion the severe loss of my mother, in which I most heartily joined; for we both attributed the late dispute and separation to the want of an amiable mediator, which, if my poor mother had been alive, she would have been upon this, as she had been in many former instances, in which she had been of the greatest utility and benefit, as a peace-maker and promoter of family happiness and concord. My father, who had long since witnessed with some anxiety my aspiring disposition, now began to dread the evil consequences of those lofty notions of patriotism, and that disinterested love of country, which in my earlier years he had taken so much pains to instil into my young mind, and had been so anxious that I should imbibe. He now viewed my daring spirit with a mingled pleasure and pain; he dreaded the result of such ardent feelings, because he foresaw that they would lead me into the greatest difficulties and dangers, unless he checked them by timely control. He now freely told me that he was actuated by this motive when he refused to give me his consent to go to Portsmouth, to witness the effects of Lord Howe's brilliant victory over the French fleet. He told me, too, that he had the same object in view, when, the summer before, he refused my application, to go and see the grand review on Bagshot Heath. It was, however, at too late a period that he began to check my patriotic ardour; he had, himself, "bent the twig," and it had grown too powerfully in the direction which he had given to it to be directed to any other. Although I was no politician at that time, yet my bosom glowed with as sacred a love of country, with as strong a predilection for the rights and liberties of the people, with as pure disinterested love of truth and justice, as ever warmed the youthful heart of man.--yet, notwithstanding I was a loyal man to the backbone, I never joined in, or approved of, the persecution of any one, for holding opinions different from those which I, myself, openly professed. I knew many persons who were called jacobins at this time, and although I thought them violent in their principles and professions, yet I never quarrelled with any of them upon the score of opinion. I was always the first to stand forward to protect the oppressed; and I began sincerely to sympathise with the labouring poor. I had now, for some years, worked with them side by side, day by day, week by week, month by month, and year year by year. I had toiled in the field with the labourers of my father; I had heard their complaints; I had witnessed their increasing privations; and although I often checked the ebullition of their discontent, which I sometimes attributed to disaffection, yet I never mocked their misery, I never persecuted or oppressed any one, because he was considered a disaffected person, or what was a synonymous term a jacobin. In fact, I sometimes got myself into very disagreeable situations, for expressing my love of fair play. Once, in particular, I remember I was in the boxes at the theatre at Salisbury, when there was a violent party call for "God save the King." I was one of the loyal who as loudly demanded this tune to be played as any loyal man in the house; after some trifling opposition the call was complied with, and the performers came forward upon the stage and sung it: there was then a call for hats off, and I have no doubt that I was as zealous in this call as any one, because, in the first place I really was a loyal man, and I was in the side boxes with a very loyal party. There was, however, one person, in the centre of the front row of the pit, who kept his hat on, and steadily refused to pull it off. This caused a great uproar, and a general call to turn him out. At length, some persons near him attempted to pull his hat off by force; but he defended himself for some time with great success, and kept his hat still on his head. By this time the national air was finished, but still there was a call to pull his hat off and to turn him out; he was surrounded now by numbers, who, urged on by those in the boxes, not only forcibly deprived him of his hat, but likewise began to use him ill. I was now as loud in my demand for fair play as I had been previously for hats off. They still persisted in their endeavour to turn him out, which he as manfully resisted, although he was surrounded with a host of foes, without any one, not even his friends who were with him, offering to give any assistance. I cried shame! shame! shame! as loud as I could, and demanded fair play. He had by this time at least a dozen assailing him at once, and they had actually got him upon the spikes of the orchestra, with an intention to throw him over out of the pit among the musicians. I felt enraged and indignant at such unmanly conduct, and at length I sprung out of the box into the pit, and having rushed up to him, I dealt the cowardly crew that were attacking him some heavy falls, and soon cleared off the gang, so that the person, whom they had literally got hanging upon the spikes, was enabled to extricate himself. In effecting this, I received as well as gave many severe blows; and by some I was considered as very foolish for interfering, while all the loyal loudly blamed me for preventing his being turned out. Although I very much disapproved of the gentleman's taste and stubbornness, yet I could not look on and see a fellow man ill-used for expressing his opinion, because that opinion was contrary to my own sentiments. However, the play now proceeded, and the gentleman, Mr John Axford of Eastcot, was allowed to keep his seat and his hat on, uninterrupted, to the end of the performance.

In consequence of this circumstance, I afterwards became very intimate with Mr. Axford, who was very grateful for my assistance, and I, although I disapproved of his politics, could not but admire his independent spirit. He was a man of a most amiable character, much intelligence, and a quick penetration; a great reader of the political history of this and the neighbouring countries, he possessed the most retentive memory, and could repeat almost all that he read. Of the French Revolution, and of Mr. Paine's Rights of Man, he was an enthusiastic admirer, and a determined enemy to the war that England was carrying on against the people of France. In fact, he was a lover of truth, justice and liberty, and therefore was of course denominated a jacobin. He lived and died railing against the unjust and unnecessary war which the ministers of England were waging against liberty in France; and as he was a warm admirer of Mr. Fox, he entered into almost all his views, and joined him in forcibly predicting all that has since occurred, as to the ruin of the country by debt and insupportable taxation. He was, indeed, a spirited and enlightened advocate of genuine freedom; and he never failed, even in the worst of times, publicly to avow his sentiments. He certainly possessed more real political knowledge, and a more correct knowledge of the situation and the affairs of the country, than any man with whom I have ever met, with the exception of Mr. Cobbett. Although I knew him for many years before I concurred in his sentiments, yet I found him a sincere friend, and a most intelligent companion, and his death was lamented more by me than that of any political acquaintance I ever had. He died before I was much of a politician, and before I appeared much in public life; but from him I learned much which I have never forgotten, and which has been, and ever will be, of the greatest service to me as a public man. Were I not to pay this well-deserved tribute to his memory, I should prove myself to have been unworthy of his friendship, and undeserving of my own approbation.

He was always denounced as a jacobin by the ignorant, and by the interested sycophants of the day; but his merit and his public spirit were duly estimated by all good and impartial men that knew him, and by no one more than by the late, the first, Marquis of Lansdown, with whom he was particularly intimate.

At this period, 1794, the whole country was greatly agitated with political discussions; every one having an eye upon the bloody and ferocious proceedings committed under the tyranny of Robespierre in Paris. This caused great alarm in England, for fear of the progress of French principles, and all the alarmists rallied round the Pitt administration, and war, war, eternal war against French principles, was the watch-word of the day. The parliament met in January, and the enormous supplies were granted almost without any opposition. Eighty thousand men were voted for the sea, forty thousand for the land-service, and likewise one hundred thousand militia, and FORTY THOUSAND SUBSIDISED GERMANS. The estimates for this service amounted to NINETEEN MILLIONS. In order to keep the people in good humour, and to make them submit to pay the enormous increase of taxation, the threat of INVASION was held out, and described with all its horrors as being about to be realised. This set the John Bulls half-mad; and, like men half-mad, half-drunk, they were ready to swallow any thing that the minister of the day prescribed. Voluntary contributions, and volunteer corps were raised all over the country. In the mean time Mr. Pitt, who had deserted the cause of reform, of which, previous to his coming into power, he had been one of the warmest and most zealous advocates, true, apostate-like, took care to presecute all his former associates, who were too honest to abandon that cause which he had betrayed. In Scotland, that excellent and worthy man, Mr. Maurice Margarot, and others were transported for fourteen years for having been members of the British Convention. Mr. Thos. Walker, of Manchester, was tried on a false accusation of high treason, at Lancaster; but was honourably acquitted. Messrs Hardy, Tooke, Joyce, and Thelwall, were also indicted and tried upon a pretended charge of high treason, at the Old Bailey in London; but this premeditated cold-blooded attempt of the ministers to destroy these innocent men, their political opponents, by setting on the plea of constructive treason, was frustrated by the verdict of an honest London jury. Messrs. Tooke and Thelwall were very able, and perhaps the most powerful, advocates of liberty in England at that time; and the ministers of the day might, with some men, have justified the attempt to destroy such enemies upon the score of STATE POLICY; but their attempt upon poor HARDY, who was a simple, inoffensive, harmless, plodding shoemaker, possessing neither talent, influence, nor the smallest power to do them any harm whatever, this was a proof of the vindictive and bloody intentions of the men in office; and it caused a great sensation throughout the country, and the verdicts of the jury were hailed with pleasure by every honest thinking man in the kingdom, who was not under the influence of an unjust prejudice. The reign of terror was now proclaimed, and a great number of worthy men were imprisoned in dungeons, under the suspension of the Habeas Corpus act, which tyrannical proceeding greatly agitated the whole country. This, therefore, will not be an improper place, to record, and bring to the recollection of the public, who were the men in power, under whose auspices and by whose directions these acts were perpetrated against the lives and liberties of the people, and particularly against those who with patriotic energy opposed those measures which they foretold, with a prophetic warning voice, would bring this country to that wretched state of poverty and slavery to which it is now reduced. Although I was too young at that time to be much of a politician, and did not enter publicly into any of the measures for or against these proceedings, yet, as I shall henceforward record the particular political occurrences of each succeeding year, I shall also take care to put upon record the names of those who were at the head of the administration, and who took a prominent part in carrying them into execution. Mr. PITT may be truly said to have been the ruler of the destinies of this mighty kingdom, and by means of British gold and British blood, he ruled also the destinies of Europe. He was the administration of England.--He is gone, but there are some who are still alive, and who I hope will live long enough to be brought to justice, and to answer for the share they had in committing these atrocities upon the people. During these times LORD GRENVILLE was Secretary of State; the Hon. Henry Addington, now LORD SIDMOUTH, was Speaker of the House of Commons; Sir John Scott, now LORD ELDON, was Attorney General, and conducted these prosecutions in such a way as led to his promotion to be Lord High Chancellor of England, where he has made such an immense sum of money, and accumulated such a princely fortune. In the early part of this year, the marriage of the Duke of SUSSEX with Lady Augusta Murray was made public, which caused a great noise in the country.

During all these eventful transactions, I was labouring incessantly in my vocation, as a farmer, and I was now become a complete master of every branch of the profession, there being no part of it that I had not performed with my own hands. Perhaps to speak of my personal exertions in this way may be deemed by many superfluous, but on reflection they will, I hope, not consider this to be the case. Hundreds, who are now living, were eye-witnesses of what I may almost call the prodigies of strength and personal labour performed by myself, and some of my father's servants, and I shall merely mention a few of the circumstances to shew the reader that in every thing I undertook I always performed it with such an enthusiasm, and determined perseverance, that nothing could resist the accomplishment of my undertakings. My father encouraged this desire that I evinced to excel, and to perform unexampled deeds of labour, and feats of strength; although he frequently expressed his fears that I should injure myself by too great bodily exertion, and by too frequently straining my muscular powers to their utmost stretch. I had undertaken and performed every species of labour, connected with a very large farming business; I had sown more acres of ground with corn in one day than any other man; I had thrashed three quarters of barley, each succeeding day, for a fortnight together, and that too at a time when some of the servants complained of the difficulty of thrashing one quarter per day; I had pitched more loads of corn in a day than had ever been recorded of any other person: in fact, my father confessed that I got more work performed by the same number of hands than he ever did when he was a young man; and for him this was admitting a great deal. I did this by good words and kindness towards my fellow labourers; by always animating and cheering them on with my example; by always placing myself in the heat of the battle; by taking the most difficult and most laborious part. I always began every work by saying to those around me COME let us do this, or let us do that, instead of GO do this, or do that. My poor father always observed that it entirely depended upon which of these little monosyllables, COME or GO, was made use of, whether the work was done well or ill, expeditiously or dilatorily. When any particular work was doing, my father's servants were always in the field, and the job was begun, before those of our neighbours had yet left their homes; and in changeable weather we had frequently carried our hay or corn, and finished the rick or stack, before the rain came on, while others had yet scarcely begun and were caught by the rain in the worst situation possible. I have frequently, in the harvest time, when we anticipated rain, been up, and a mile out in the field, pitching the first load of wheat by two or before three o'clock in the morning, while the carters were harnessing and bringing out the other teams. While this load was being drawn home I had got my breakfast, and was ready to begin laying the first sheaf of the wheat-rick, which many times I had finished, though consisting of thirty large loads of sheaves, before the middle of the day; by which means, if the rain came, we had secured perhaps one hundred sacks of wheat, and these would prove worth from five to ten shillings a sack more than that which was left out to take the rain. If it proved a false alarm, and the weather was fine, we got a second rick finished by night, and thereby had secured two hundred instead of one hundred sacks of wheat in one day. It will be asked by some, how did the labourers relish this extra toil and double work? The answer is easy--perfectly well. I always took care to have them amply rewarded in proportion to their exertions; and I never failed to add something, besides good words and kind treatment, for the cheerfulness and alacrity with which they approached and performed the task. I always made the wheat-ricks, and I have many times made two ricks, containing thirty loads in each rick, in one day. This work of making wheat-ricks, in very hot weather, which is generally the case, is much the hardest and most severe work, if done well, belonging to the farming business; and I was so thoroughly convinced of this, that I always allowed the person who afterwards made my wheat-ricks, a pint of ale as often, during the day, as he chose to ask for it. For many years had I now made all my father's ricks of hay and corn, and the wheat-ricks were the admiration of the whole country. I also thatched many of them; that is, I made the ricks by day, and I frequently thatched them by night, or at least before the common labourers came to work in the morning. I was never tired of labour and active exertions; and at this period, the labourers possessed all the strength and vigour of the English peasantry of former days. Notwithstanding they began to feel the effects of war and to suffer some privations, in consequence of the rise of price in provisions, caused by the increase of taxation, they had yet a barrel of good beer to go to in hay-making and harvest time, and the young men at least could gain a comfortable subsistence of the necessaries of life by their daily labour. Few of them, indeed, could now boast of a "pig in the sty," a treasure which they had, till very lately, always possessed; yet they could occasionally purchase a pound of bacon or other meat, although at a very considerable increase in the price. They soon, however, felt, and keenly felt, that their condition was altered, and was still rapidly altering for the worse, they consequently grew less tractable and cheerful in their dispositions; they went to their daily labour with more reluctance, and became more sullen and discontented as their privations increased; but still they were not emaciated, and become languid and weak, as most of them now are, for the want of a sufficiency of the common necessaries of life. As a proof of this, I will mention a day's work done by myself and three others, all of whom are now alive, and living in the parish of Euford; but, alas! how altered, how wretched in circumstances, compared to what they were at the time respecting which I write, when they were able and willing to do, and did accomplish, as much work with great ease in one day, as would now occupy them, I am sure, for four days. In fact, such is the alteration in their state, from having lived so badly, and worked so hard for the last twenty years, that they are become so reduced in bodily strength, that they would now feel more fatigue in doing one quarter of the work in a day than they did in performing the whole at that time. The names of the men are Barnaby Marshal, Thomas Ayres, and James Pinnels. These three men and myself have frequently winnowed large heaps of corn in a day, and we once accomplished the winnowing sixty sacks of wheat in one day--thirty sacks being considered a good day's work for four men. In one instance, two men in each of two adjoining barns had thrashed a very large heap of wheat, which had yielded so well, that we estimated each heap to contain forty sacks of the best wheat, and every one calculated upon its being two smart day's work to winnow it. However, on the day appointed to winnow one of these heaps, some time in the beginning of May, myself and some young friends in the neighbourhood, had agreed to meet in the evening, for the purpose of shooting rooks; I therefore requested the three persons above named to be in readiness to begin winnowing at or soon after five instead of six o'clock in the morning. The winnowing tackle was prepared over night, I had got the doors of the barn open before hand, and not one of them was behind the time appointed, they well knowing that the exhilarating jug of "nut brown ale" would not be wanting upon such an occasion. As the church clock struck five every man was at his post, and the merry van went briskly round. As each well knew his duty, so that no labour should be lost, we had made such rapid progress by six o'clock, that is to say in one hour, that Ayres in a joke said, "If we continue at this rate, master, we shall be able to finish both heaps instead of one." A joke of that sort was never thrown away upon me, and accordingly, I immediately adopted the idea; for having once conceived a project, I never hesitated, but instantly began to put it in execution. I said that it was certainly two good day's work for four common men, but if they would back me, we would see if we could not do two good days work in one day. My fellow workmen, who were become almost as great enthusiasts as myself, spontaneously replied, "With all our hearts, master, if you say the word we will try, we are not afraid to attempt any thing you will undertake." Two more men were employed to bring the heap from the other barn, and add it to that which we had begun, and the result was, that when the clock struck six in the evening, we, four of us had completely winnowed and finished eighty-one sacks of best wheat, besides tailing, and had loaded the waggon with thirty of them for market the next day. I having carried the thirty sacks into the waggon myself, now washed, cleaned, and dressed myself, and had joined my friends in the field, partaking of the sport of rook shooting, before half-past six in the evening; and I took care that my three fellow-labourers should be rewarded with the first three dozen of young rooks that were killed. As a proof that the corn was well winnowed, my father sold it at the next market-day, at Devizes, for three shillings per sack higher than any other sample in the market.

I now met with a very great loss, as my worthy friend and preceptor, Mr. Carrington, the curate, with whom I had passed so many pleasant hours, and from whom I had received so much valuable information, and such good and useful advice, was about to leave the vicarage of Enford, he having been offered, and accepted, the situation of tutor to the sons of the Earl of Berkley, and as this was the likely road to preferment, I rejoiced in his success, although I very much lamented his absence. He was, to say the least of him, an excellent neighbour and a very worthy man. He was cheerful, amiable, and conciliating in his manners; he possessed a very superior understanding, which he had much improved and embellished by his application to the study of the most useful and refined literature, he having received a very liberal education; and though he was an excellent classical scholar he was neither a pedant nor a bigot; he lived a moral, sober, and rational life, worthy the example of his parishioners, and although he was not enabled to be very bountiful, having only sixty pounds a year as his salary, and his house to live in; he nevertheless honestly paid every one as he went, and saved some small trifle for a wet day. By all his neighbours he was much beloved, and his society much courted by those who knew how to estimate the value of a superior mind, and an enlightened and comprehensive understanding. He took great delight in imparting to me the knowledge which he had acquired, and when he left the parish of Enford, no one felt his loss more acutely or lamented it more sincerely than I did. Because he had the sense and the penetration to discover, and the honesty to reprobate the fatal mad-headed measures of Mr. Pitt, he was denounced by the vulgar, the ignorant, and the bigotted, by the venal and by the corrupt as a Jacobin; but he was admired by all good and liberal men of all parties, and his society was courted by every rational, thinking, and intelligent man in the country round where he lived. The society that I met at his house was my greatest solace and comfort after the fatigues and the labours of the day. I was always welcome, and I never passed an hour in his society without having gained some useful information, or some substantial accomplishment.

Many of the young people of the village, who did not associate much with Mr. Carrington, and who were neither capable of appreciating his merits, nor of deriving pleasure from his refined society, were delighted to find that there was a gay young buck of a Clergyman, just returned from Oxford, who was to occupy the situation of my worthy friend. But, alas, what a contrast! I did not expect to find such another kind and amiable companion and friend as him that I had lost; but I anticipated that he would be a scholar, and a man of the world, and at all events a suitable associate for myself. But, as he is no more, I shall be very brief: he was, in a word, in every thing the reverse, the very opposite of Mr. Carrington. The Sunday arrived, and my father, as the principal person in the village, always anxious to be the first to shew his attention to a stranger, and particularly when that stranger was clothed in the dress of Pastor of the parish, waited upon him at the Inn or Pot-House, where he had taken up his quarters, and not only invited him to dine, but also offered him a bed and a stall for his horse till he was better provided at the Vicarage. I, of course, accompanied my father, and we had little difficulty in getting over the first introduction. He was a young man of easy manners and address, and without the least ceremony, accepted the invitation to dine, &c; but he informed us, that he had made a bargain, and had taken lodgings and intended to board, with the landlady at the Swan, as he could not bear the thoughts of living in a dull country Vicarage House by himself. We went to Church, where he dashed through the service in double quick time, and "tipped us," as he had previously informed me he would, a Rattling Sermon, as a specimen of his style of oratory. He appeared a clever thoughtless youth, of Twenty-five; but the rake, as my father said, "stood confessed in his eye," and its effects sat visible upon his brow. After dinner he took his wine like a Parson, and before he had finished a bottle he was as drunk as a Lord; so much so, that he was utterly incapable of performing the afternoon duty without exposing his situation to the whole congregation. My father was shocked at his indiscretion, and sent a hasty excuse to put off the afternoon service. As drunkenness was not encouraged, nor even tolerated, in my father's house, he was very anxious to conceal the circumstance of the young Parson having become so much intoxicated at his table as to be incapable of performing his duty; and he felt it the greater disgrace, as he was the principal Church-warden, as well as the principal parishioner. I took the hopeful and Reverend young gentleman, who had been so recently inspired by the Holy Ghost to take Priest's Orders, a walk into the fields, to recover him a little, as my father thought him a very improper guest to introduce into the drawing-room to his daughters. In the course of our walk he professed a very sincere and warm friendship for me, and promised himself a world of pleasure in my society; and he frankly and unblushingly informed me, that he had brought with him from Oxford a bad venereal complaint, which, he added, was most unfortunate, as he was fearful that he should inoculate all the pretty damsels belonging to his new flock, which would be a cursed Bore.

I premised by saying that I should be very brief, but I fear that some of my moral male, as well as all my female, readers will think that as to this young Clergyman of the Church of England I have already said too much; but sorry am I to declare that in the little which I have said, I have drawn his character too faithfully. He lived but a short time; having soon fallen a victim to his profligate course of life. He was little more than a year, I think, the Pastor of the Parish, and he administered the sacrament, and performed all the other offices of the Curate, when the effects of his drinking did not interfere with it, and during this time he always lodged at the public house. This was a sad example for the people of the parish! The young farmers were already too much addicted to drinking, but they had been heretofore kept in check, and under some sort of controul, by the admonition and by the example of their late Clergyman, who, during all the years that he had resided there, was never known to be intoxicated, or in any way, disguised in liquor. To be sure he was a Jacobin, but he was, nevertheless, a sober, moral, amiable Man; and, although he was no bigot, he most strictly, regularly, and rigidly performed the sacred duty he had undertaken, with great satisfaction to his parishioners, and with great credit to himself, as a Man, a Clergyman, and a Christian. But, during the life of his successor, they had no Jacobin; he was a furious Church and Kingman, although a complete free thinker over his cups, and would get drunk and roar God save the King with any drunken loyalist in the district; and, to shew his zeal in this way, he entered and served as a private, and dressed in the uniform, of the Everly troop of yeomanry Cavalry just raised. He was, however, too enervated and too emaciated to acquire any knowledge of the military exercise; and, what was rather remarkable, there was another young sprig of the Church to keep him in countenance, who was also a private in the same troop of yeomanry. Although I sometimes made one of the bacchanalian party of our Curate, yet I felt most severely the difference between this society and that of Mr. Carrington.

Upon the death of this infatuated young man, another Curate was sent down by the Vicar, who was the Rev. John Prince, the Chaplain to the Magdalen, and who it was thought would be more particular in the choice of those with whom he trusted the care of the souls of his parishioners. Our new Curate arrived fresh from Oxford, and as he brought letters of recommendation to my father, from the Vicar, who was a very worthy and a most circumspect man, he invited him to his house, and he proved to be a much more rational young man than his predecessor. Though he did not evince any great knowledge of the world, yet he had mixed in good society, and I promised myself a great acquisition in his acquaintance. We soon, however, found that he had not been educated at Oxford for nothing; he had acquired a habit of taking his bottle freely, and, as he had not a very hard head, he was frequently very much intoxicated before his more robust neighbours were scarcely yet warmed with their glasses. This was a dreadful misfortune for my young friend, as well as for myself, for he was an intelligent young man when he was sober; but, the moment the wine began to operate, he was one of the completest fools in christendom; he was then as great as a king, and always when he was the most contemptible, he fancied himself a very great man, and never failed to boast of his superiority of education, and his having taken his degree at Christ Church. This he was always sure to do when he had lost the little talent and intellect that he possessed when he was sober. At the very moment that he was looked upon with a degree of mingled pity and contempt by those around him, he was sure to assume a ridiculous superiority over his more rational companions; merely, as he professed, because he was brought up at college.

There was about this time great talk of an invasion by the French. The ministers, having granted large subsidies, and having imposed new taxes, found it necessary to frighten John Bull with the idea of being invaded. Great alarm was therefore excited throughout the country; volunteer corps and troops of yeomanry were raising all over the island. Provisions had by this time increased in price, every article of common consumption was nearly doubled, and great dissatisfaction was evinced amongst the labouring poor; there were riots in many parts of the country, and much mischief was done by burning wheat-ricks, and pulling down mills, in consequence of the high price of bread. But the dread of invasion was in every one's mouth, and nothing else was talked of. I, therefore, was one who anticipated nothing less than an immediate attempt, and I applied to my father, and requested that he would purchase me a proper charger, and let me enter into a troop of the yeomanry cavalry. He expostulated and strongly urged me to desist, and he repeated his former arguments; but I replied that I was ashamed to stand by and to look on, with my arms folded, while all the youth and vigour of the country were flying to arms in order to repel the expected attempts of a desperate and powerful invading foe. He endeavoured to convince me of the folly of my enthusiasm, urging that most of those who had enrolled themselves in the yeomanry, were solely actuated by a desire to take care of their own property, that they were impelled to take up arms merely by selfish motives, and without possessing a spark of the amor patriæ. He recalled to my recollection the immense sacrifices made by our forefather, Colonel Thomas Hunt, in the reign of the Charles's; he pointed out the noble domains and productive estates that were confiscated by Cromwell, in consequence of my ancestor's zeal in the cause of his prince, and he begged me to remember how he was rewarded for his services; asking me what reason I had to expect a better fate, or a higher reward, than my forefather had obtained for all his exertions, dangers, and sacrifices, which were the loss of his estates and the ingratitude of the prince that he so faithfully served?

All this might be, and was very true, but I reasoned with myself thus: My forefather took up arms in favour of a tyrant, to support him in most arbitrary measures against his own countrymen; but my only wish is to arm myself against a foreign invader, whose great object I am told is to enslave after having conquered the people of my native land. All reasoning with me was consequently in vain. I had made up my mind not to stand idle and be a looker-on in such times; the fervour of my youth had been worked upon by the delusion of the day, and it would not admit of this restraint; therefore, without farther ceremony, in spite of my father's expostulations, I enrolled my name as a member of the Everly Troop of Yeomanry, under the command of the gallant Captain ASTLEY. I knew the Captain to Be a poor creature, and as little cut out for a warrior as any man I had ever met with; he was built like Ajax, but as for skill or valour I believed him to possess neither. I had, however, no fears of being left to be led into the field of battle by the worthy justice. In case it should ever come to that issue, I had no doubt that proper and experienced officers would be appointed to lead us on. I bought an excellent thoroughbred charger, near sixteen hands high; for, although my own horse was a very good one, and better than eight out of ten in the troop, yet, as he was rather under the regulation size, I was determined to be as well mounted as any man in the regiment, and as I was well known to be a good rider, and a bold and determined fox-hunter, the captain was very much delighted with what he was pleased to call a "wonderful acquisition to his corps." My father also, now I was entered, was as anxious as myself that I should not be outdone by any one. I therefore immediately employed a drill serjeant, who was engaged to instruct the troop in their exercise, and who had been drilling them for some time past; and before the first field-day arrived for me to attend, my instructor pronounced me fit for service, and as well disciplined as any man in the troop. Perhaps I had bestowed as much pains, and had spent as much time, as any of them, though I had been drilled only for about a fortnight, for I was at it every day two or three hours. In truth, I was an apt scholar, and being already an excellent horseman, and extremely active, I could before I had ever joined, perform most of the evolutions, and, as the serjeant said, do any thing as well as himself. He told me that in many of my brother soldiers I should meet with some stupid heavy fellows, and that he could teach me more in a day than many of them would learn in a year. The following Monday was appointed for us to assemble and have a field day, when CAPTAIN ASTLEY and LIEUTENANT SIR JOHN METHUEN POORE, who had gone to London for the purpose, were expected to attend, armed cap-a-pie, and dressed complete in their NEW UNIFORM, as a specimen of what we were in future to wear.

The reader will recollect that I am now about to give a faithful history of my military services; and I must therefore entreat his indulgence, while I put upon record some such circumstances, and occurrences as he will be little prepared to hear, unless it have been his fate to be a member of some volunteer corps, under the command of such officers as Captain ASTLEY, Lieutenant Sir John POORE, and Cornet DYKE. Without farther comment then, the two gallant officers, ASTLEY, and POORE, started the week before to London, to superintend the making, and to arrange with the army taylor the particulars of the uniform. Having been very particular in getting the taylor, breeches-maker, boot, and even spur-maker, to fit them to a T, on the Friday they both appeared, accoutred from head to toe, at Edmonds's, Somerset coffee house, in the Strand, and really cut no small "swell" as they marched up and down the coffee room. They would then take a turn down the Strand, as far as Exeter Exchange, and if, luckily for him, Polito had seen them, he might possibly have made a good bargain by chewing them amongst the other wild beasts which he exhibited to the wondering multitude. They next showed off in full uniform, with their broad swords by their sides, in the front boxes of Drury Lane Theatre; and, as the Wiltshire was one of the first regiments of yeomanry that was raised and clothed, they excited no small curiosity amongst the Londoners. On Saturday morning they again entered the coffee room in all their trappings, and having each purchased a brace of excellent pistols, they appeared eager to begin the campaign without waiting the arrival of the French troops; and as Clark and Haines, two notorious highwaymen were at this time levying their nightly contributions upon Hounslow Heath, they more than hinted their intention of capturing or killing these desperadoes, in case they should fall in with them during their march down into the country, which they had given due notice they intended to commence on that afternoon.

About two o'clock, the captain's travelling carriage and four was brought to the door of the coffee house. These circumstances were detailed to me by a gentleman present, and who really was rather alarmed at their warlike appearance and war-disposed manner and language. Having seated themselves with all their military finery in the carriage, they carefully placed their two brace of horse pistols in the front pocket, taking care to leave the butt-ends sticking out, threateningly visible to every eye that surveyed them. A crowd was collected round the carriage to witness the departure of these mighty warriors, whose appearance denoted a most determined conflict, in case any thing should occur to give them an opportunity of showing how worthy they were to command, and to lead into the heat of battle a body of their countrymen, who were "seeking the bubble reputation even in the cannon's mouth." About four o'clock they arrived at the Bush at Staines, having taken care to pass Hounslow Heath, the half-anticipated scene of action, by day light. Having by this piece of generalship escaped the danger so far, they slept that night at Mr. White's excellent inn at Staines' Bridge. The next morning, Sunday, after taking a good breakfast, dressed and armed as before, in all their military array, they took up their pistols, which had been placed by them on the table, and then adjourned into the garden, whence they fired them into the Thames, at once to try how true they would carry the balls, and to give notice to the surrounding and astonished passengers upon the bridge that they travelled like warriors, prepared for any emergency that might arise. Having re-loaded their pistols in the presence of Mr. Joseph White, and each of them taken a glass of noyeau to exhilarate their spirits, the horses were ordered too, and the carriage was now brought to the front door. Having taken another turn round the bowling green in the garden, to exhibit themselves to the gaping multitude, who were now collected in considerable numbers upon the bridge, brought thither in consequence of the discharging of pistols on a Sunday morning, and who were waiting to see their departure, they entered the carriage in the same formal manner as they had done at the door of the Somerset coffee house, and having carefully and deliberately placed their pistols again in the front pocket, with their but-ends, as before, appearing very prominent out of the chaise window, they proceeded on their march with a sort of solemn gravity, which excited the surprise of some few, but the laughter of the greater portion, of their beholders.

It was on a Sunday morning, about eight o'clock, when they started from Staines in this warlike attitude; their helmets glittering in the sun, like the peacock vain of his plumes. They, however, little dreamt of the disaster that was in store for them. Having passed Virginia Water, and as the postboy was taking them leisurely along up the steep hill leading to Bagshot, who should ride up to the side of the chaise but a single highwayman, who, having ordered the boy to halt, deliberately demanded their money and watches. The yeomanry heroes looked at each other, and then at their pistols; but neither of them had the power of putting forth a hand to grasp either of them. The highwayman again hastily demanded his prize, which was immediately granted, our heroes handing over to him their purses, containing about sixty guineas and two valuable family gold watches. It is said that Sir John Poore, after having recovered a little from the fright, endeavoured to raise his inconsolable companion from the stupor in which this sad misfortune had left him, by repeating the following lines of Hudibras:

"He that fights and runs away, May live to fight another day; But he that is in battle slain, Can never live to fight again,"

Capt. Astley, who was too much absorbed in ruminating upon his melancholy situation to give his friend any other answer than a long and deep sigh, could not but most sensibly feel that they were in a still worse plight than the knight of the rueful countenance ever was; for they had run away without having made any fight at all. So ashamed were they of their misadventure, that they would not have mentioned it to any one, had they not been compelled to disclose it to the landlords of the various inns they had to pass; for the unmannerly fellow had not even left them a tester to pay the turnpikes.

When they arrived at Everley, Sir John was ashamed to face the troop to tell them the story, although we were already in the field anxious to see our commanders dressed up in their new uniform. All the golden dreams of glory seemed to Sir John to have vanished by this unlucky affair, and nothing; could induce him to shew himself off to his troop, though his charger was ready to convey him to the field, and he was urged by all the expostulations and intreaties of the captain. He therefore sneaked off home to Rushall, and left the gallant captain to make the best of a bad bargain by himself.

In the mean time we had been manoeuvring, charging, and wheeling, till we were almost all tired, waiting for this exhibition. At length we were informed of the disaster by one of the serjeants, Mr. William Butcher, of Shercot, who had called at the captain's house to know what was the matter. The mighty hero at last appeared in view, mounted upon his charger, riding solemnly towards the troop, dressed in full uniform, the same which he had worn down from town, with the exception, perhaps, of some trifling change, which might have been rendered necessary by the disastrous fright he had received upon the road. Some admired the dress, some pitied the loss sustained by the poor captain, but myself, and many of those who surrounded me, though we felt the deep disgrace which had befallen our commander, could scarcely contain ourselves with laughter at the ridiculous figure he cut, particularly when the event of the robbery came across our thoughts. I had often heard of a hog in armour, but I had never before seen any thing that appeared to convey the representation so much to my mind as the ridiculous figure of our captain.