the shepherd caressed a thick whip he had brought from the gig." And it is unprincipled work, give me leave to tell you, Mr. Charley, to tempt them to barter their hopes of eternal happiness."

"My dear Sir, what are you talking about?" interposed the other, in his mild pleasant voice, "I would give no man a shilling for changing his religion; but if the spending of a thousand pounds could bring a soul to Christ, gladly would I pay the money. But never as a bribe, for that would be buying a soul for Satan."

"You never said a truer word," acquiesced the priest, slapping his long boots resonantly with the whip. There was also a triumph in his eye which Mr. Charley did not understand. Now, by your leave, Sir, and I'll just speak a word to these parishioners of mine, telling them your opinion, which does you credit, Sir."

Raising his breezy voice, he called out, Boys!" and signalled with his pastoral crook (being the aforesaid whip), and the dozen drew together, shuffling and touching hats. To them the shepherd said, in precisely their own tones:

This honourable gentleman, your employer, is just after sayin' a word I thought it would be no harm for ye to hear in these days of souperism, boys. He's just after sayin' that changing your religion would be Satan's work, and he wouldn't pay a shilling to turn the whole batch of ye Protestans; so now let ye give three cheers for the honourable Mr. Charley, an' go back to yer work, an' don't let me hear any more of ye coming sneaking to me with stories. I wish you a very good morning, Mr. Charley."

Before the third cheer was done, his reverence was clambering into the high yellow-lined gig, and smote his sturdy horse into its regular jog

trot.

by your priest." This in itself was an unfavourable beginning; and when he had made the correction, he was aware that the wits of his hearers, unused to unravel language beyond their own dialect, either did not understand the difference, or preferred Father Sylvester's version.

And I add this, my men: that no priest on earth shall prevent my speaking of my God and Saviour, whenever the thought of Him crosses my mind, and I feel in my heart to thank and praise Him for all His goodness, and especially His goodness in giving me heaven. And no priest on earth shall prevent my taking every opportunity of declaring that the way to heaven is trusting in our Lord Jesus Christ, who died for us, and not in the Blessed Virgin, who never died for us."

Perhaps Father Sylvester had not gained so much, after all, by his overreaching bit of monologue. The men went back to their work, slouching; with a perception that the spiritual and temporal powers in their world were at variance. Mr. Charley walked forth upon the road.

When he came to the turn he beheld the curate of the parish picking his way along. Mr. Chetwynd had, as before intimated, symmetrical and dainty little feet, which it was his glory to keep untainted from a speck of mud. Therefore he did not see the other gentleman till they were mutually close at hand; and then he made a graceful bow. All the curate's actions were graceful, and he knew it.

"I was just going up to your house," he said (almost the words used by Father Sylvester, but in tone how different!) "I wanted a few words with you, Mr. Charley."

speak to you about a rumour that reached me."

"A rumour!"

What naturally

rushed into the father's mind was anything in connexion with Dora.

"Yes, I can hardly believe it; but I am credibly informed that you, the night before last, assisted at a Wesleyan prayer-meeting in the village. When I say assisted,' I mean that you took part in it. You have also opened a cottage reading-"

"Oh!" Mr. Charley, uttering this sound in much relief, gazed at the young ecclesiastic, and asked in a curious tone, "Do you really think my conduct worthy of censure?" Most certainly I do. As a churchman, and holding your position-"

"O my friend, can you not swallow up the churchman in the wider name of Christian?" Mr. Charley heaved a great sigh. Was this other feeble effort to do good, and show himself about his Master's business, to be condemned? His next remark was very irrelevant. "My dear fellow," taking the young man's arm kindly, "I am old enough to be your father. It is probable that I was a redeemed soul, born again and serving my Saviour with all the energies of a renewed nature, when you were in the cradle."

The Rev. Oriel Chetwynd did not relish such allusions to his youth; he had the misfortune of an appearance even younger than his years, though the sacerdotal element was strong in him over all laics of whatever age. "I don't see what that has to do with the present case," he observed, rather stiffly.

ever-blessed and precious Saviour." Mr. Charley paused, and reverently took off his hat for a moment; I know not whether he had ever heard of Robert Boyle.

The conversation, now on the avenue, was broken by the sound of swift-nearing horse-hoofs; and Lancelot Latymer, the rider, looked so unmistakeably his conviction that the curate was out of place, as to corroborate the same idea in Mr. Chetwynd's own mind. So the latter bowed his farewell, and went away on the faultless feet which scarcely dented the soft gravel.

Unsuccess was written on Lancelot's face and mien. He alighted quite heavily; "O Mr. Charley, my father won't listen to anything. He's as dead against it as the first day. It's no use to talk to him-at least for me. I don't know what to do, it's so senseless-nothing but family pride, and all that sort of thing. And I can't give her up, Mr. Charley. I can't give her up.'

The great fellow leaned his forehead on Bluebottle's saddle, and it was afterwards wet with tears. Very weak and womanish, it may be; but he had yet to learn the priceless lesson of self-control and submission.

Perhaps it is a conclusion not always justified by facts: but it seems to me that when human parents neglect the education of their children in this point, and allow them to grow up wilful and uncontrolled, the Divine Parent is (as it were), compelled to teach by thorns in maturer years the lessons unlearned in childhood. A fiercer struggle with the hard facts of life must be the lot of such unsubdued spirits.

Try to look beyond second causes to the will of God," was what Mr. Charley said. He had tested the anchorage himself, and found it hold; even when neither sun nor stars for many days appeared.

Christian World Magazine, April, 1866.]

THE Commencement of the latter half of the eighteenth century was remarkable as the period when our national energies were aroused to a state of activity which produced the most happy results to our country. Dr. Johnson was engaged in consolidating the English language and in conducting the thoughtful among his countrymen to foster views of social life, and to a taste for pure and elegant literature. Wesley and Whitfield were rebuking the formality of the age, and stirring up all classes of society to earnest religious life and activity. Some of the ablest statesmen that ever lived were then at the zenith of their power, or were rising to eminence in the British senate. When George the Third commenced his long and prosperous reign, in 1760, he declared that "he gloried in the name of Briton." His youth, his amiability, and his thoroughly English sympathies drew towards him the confidence and affection of his subjects.

Prosperous and hopeful as were the circumstances which surrounded the youthful king, the British citizen of the latter half of the nineteenth century would find himself greatly perplexed if suddenly surrounded by those circumstances and forms of social life. He would find it very difficult to adapt himself to dark and muddy streets and rough stagewaggons, after having enjoyed the convenience of gas, and cabs, and railway carriages. The inhabitant of Birmingham who has not troubled himself much about former times, may be astonished to learn that little more than a century ago the first stage-coach was advertised to run from Birmingham to London, "if the roads permit," and that about a century ago the first stage-waggon was started to London, thus rendering it unnecessary for the manufacturers of the town to send their merchandize to Castle Bromwich to meet the pack-horse train, or the stage-waggon from Chester to

London. He will be equally astonished to learn that his forefathers in the midland metropolis had not a regular bank in which to deposit their savings until Messrs. Taylor and Lloyd commenced one in 1765; and that then they would have to wait seven years before the first Hackney coach would be seen jolting through their streets; or before the seventysix commissioners would be appointed to cleanse the streets and set up 700 oil lamps, very much to the annoyance of the good townsfolk, who had to meet the expense by a small rate. But even then the men of Birmingham were remarkable for energy and skill. Hutton, the historian, entered it as a youth seventeen years of age in the year 1741. He thus records his earliest impressions. "I was much surprised at the place, but more at the people. They were a species I had never seen; they possessed a vivacity I had never beheld: I had been among dreamers, but now I saw men awake; their very step along the street showed alacrity. I had been taught to consider the whole twenty-four hours as appropriated for inaction, but I found people satisfied with only half that number." "I could not avoid remarking that if the people of Birmingham did not suffer themselves to sleep in the streets, they did not suffer others to sleep in their beds; for I was each morning, by three o'clock, saluted with a circle of hammers. Every man seemed to know and prosecute his own affairs."

The traveller from Birmingham to Wolverhampton a century ago, as he crossed the brook which separates Staffordshire from Warwickshire, stepped upon the margin of a desolate and barren heath. Scared rabbits darted to their holes as he ascended the hill, on the bleak summit of which stood a hut, on the very spot where now stands the Soho mansion. In the hut dwelt a warrener, who looked after the wild

[Christian World Magazine, April, 1866.

inhabitants of the hill in the interest of John Wyerley, Esq., lord of the manor, an arrangement which was, doubtless, very necessary considering the proximity of Birmingham, and the fact that on the west side of the hill there was a colony of huts, "filled with idle, beggarly people, who by the help of the common land and a little thieving made shift to live without working." Local tradition speaks of an old public-house which stood somewhere on the hill, on the signboard of which were painted an huntsman and his dogs, and underneath the field-cry, "So! Ho!" a circumstance which gave the name to the hill.

The rapid increase of population, and the growth of our manufacturing and commercial interests during the last century, have wonderfully changed the face of many a once dreary spot, and have invested with deepest interest places which to our forefathers were remarkable only for their dreariness. But few places were destined to undergo more rapid transformation, or to become associated with more striking incidents illustrative of the progress of the arts and sciences than the Soho rabbit-warren.

We pass over fifty years, and come to the commencement of the present century, and what a change has taken place. The barren heath has been transformed into a beautiful park where lakes sparkle and fountains play. Tall trees throw their shadows across the turnpike road as the sun approaches the west. On the east side of the road stands Prospect Hill House, where Egginton, the celebrated painter on glass, resides. The warrener's hut has given place to the Soho mansion, which commands a view of Birmingham and the hills beyond; and in the valley, a few hundred yards from the mansion, stands a vast, solid brick building of no mean architectural beauty, wherein a thousand craftsmen toil. This is the Soho factory.

A wonderful tide of energy and intellect had ebbed and flowed around this spot during its short existence. The "princely Boulton" had emerged from obscurity, and by Christian World Magazine, April, 1866.]

the consecration of his great genius and untiring energy had built up a commercial and manufacturing establishment unrivalled in its bearings upon our national progress. The thoughtful, ingenious, but retiring Watt had been brought from his northern home to work with head and hand in perfecting the steam-engine. Kings, princes, nobles, men of science, and men of letters had been attracted to Soho to admire, to learn, and to offer their portion of thought and effort to the development of art and science.

More than another half century of time and progress has elapsed, and what a further change has taken place! So mutable are all the works of man. The men of great genius, energy, and industry have passed away. The remains of Boulton, Watt, and Murdock rest together in the parish church of Handsworth. The whole aspect of the Soho estates is changed. The park fence has disappeared; the old trees are gone; the urns which affection raised in the park to the memory of some members of the Lunar Society have been removed. The park is for the most part occupied with residences of the respectable and well-to-do merchants and tradesmen of Birmingham. The mansion still stands, and is the residence of the respected incumbent of the beautiful church which has been built on the brow of the hill. But the glory of the whole scene is gone; the old manufactory has disappeared, and there remains nothing but rubbish to mark the spot where once stood one of the noblest of England's buildings.

The story of the original transfer and transformation of the Soho rabbit-warren, and of the rise of the manufactory is soon told. In 1757 John Wyerley, Esq., lord of the manor, granted a lease of the Soho Hill land, for ninety-nine years, to Messrs. Ruston and Evans, with liberty to turn Hockley Brook, and to make a pool to work a water-mill for rolling metal. In 1762 Matthew Boulton, toymaker, purchased the lease of the estate, rebuilt and en

larged the mill, and removed his manufactory from Birmingham. The accommodation was soon found to be insufficient, and in the year 1764 the foundation of the Soho factory was laid, which was completed in the following year at a cost of £9,000, and was designed to accommodate 1,000 workmen.

Let me now introduce the man whose great genius and enterprise laid the foundation, and so wonderfully developed the resources of this great centre of skill and industry. The originators of great movements by which the material resources of a nation have been developed have generally ascended from the lower and middle classes of society. Few of the men who have accelerated the growth of our national wealth and power have come from the upper ten thousand. Not that the great and noble of our land are deficient in true genius or are wanting in patriotism, but they lack the stimulus which the aspiration after wealth and higher social position affords. Already high in the social scale, in the possession of wealth, influence, and glory, they feel secure, contented, and happy. From men so circumstanced little aid can be expected to further the commercial and manufacturing interests of the country; but rather from the intelligent, thoughtful, and energetic middle class may be expected those who will advance our solid material progress.

The middle class of our country may claim Matthew Boulton as belonging to them, and may justly be proud of him. It is probably true that the ancestors of Matthew belonged to the country gentry of Northamptonshire, and that his grandfather had married into one of the old genteel families of Staffordshire. If it will add anything to the fame of young Boulton, he shall have the credit of having had a little genteel blood in his veins; still, it is nevertheless true that he was the son of Matthew Boulton, silver stamper, of Birmingham. It is equally true that young Matthew received only an ordinary English education, under the direction of the

Rev. Mr. Anstead, of Deritend; that he left school early to enter his father's workshop; that he had to don the apron, and with his own hands make buttons, buckles, watchchains, and other trinkets; and that it was by a course of self-instruction in the midst of business duties that he gained what knowledge he possessed, and it was doubtless considerable, of Latin, French, and other branches of an advanced education.

Matthew became possessed of considerable property at the death of his father, which occurred in 1759. The next year, having reached the mature age of thirtytwo, he sought for a wife a distant relative on his grandmother's side. But although Matthew had good property, good looks, and good character, and though he doubtless entered into the interesting business of courting with his usual energy, he had great difficulty to overcome the opposition of the lady's friends, who seem to have objected to an alliance with a Birmingham Toymaker. He was not, however, one of those whom small difficulties discourage, and so his suit was crowned with success, and Anne Robinson became his wife.

man

The graphic portrait of Mr. Boulton, sketched by Mrs. Schimmelpenninck, from the recollections of her childhood, indicates naturally formed to make an impression in the age in which he lived. "He was in person tall, and of noble appearance, his temperament was sanguine, with that slight mixture of phlegmatic which gives calmness and dignity; his manners were eminently open and cordial; he took the lead in conversation, and with a social heart had a grandiose manner like that arising from position, wealth, and habitual command. He went among his people like a monarch bestowing largess. His forehead was magnificent." This dignified manner, combined with his strong intelligence and keen perception of character, made him from the first a successful man. Even before his removal to Soho his business had become very large. The rapid development of the

[Christian World Magazine, April, 1866