under the care of a Mr. Shipley, who soon discovered that he was a boy of quick perception, and very admirable talents; and came with joy, like a good man, to relieve the anxiety and painful suspicions of his family. While his school-masters were complaining that they could make nothing of him, he discovered what Nature had made him, and wrote satires upon them. These pieces were never shown to any, except his most particular friends, who say that they were pointed and severe. They are enumerated in the table of Contents to one of his manuscript volumes, under the title of School-Lampoons; but, as was to be expected, he had cut the leaves out and destroyed them. One of his poems written at this time, and under these feelings, is preserved. ON BEING CONFINED TO SCHOOL, One Pleasant Morning in Spring. Written at the age of thirteen. THE morning sun's enchanting rays While wildly warbling from each tree, But for me no songster sings, How gladly would my soul forego And woo the muse's gentle power, But, ah! such heav'n-approaching joys Yet never but in fancy shine. Oh, that I were the little wren, There hop and sing with careless glee, And till death should stop my lays, About this time his mother was induced, by the advice of several friends, to open a Ladies' Boarding and Day School, in Nottingham, her eldest daughter having previously been a teacher in one for some time. In this she succeeded beyond her most sanguine expectations, and Henry's home comforts were thus materially increased, though it was still out of the power of his family to give him that education, and direction in life, which his talents deserved and required. It was now determined to breed him up to the hosiery trade, the staple manufacture of his native place, and at the age of fourteen he was placed in a stocking-loom, with the view, at some future period, of getting a situation in a hosier's warehouse. During the time that he was thus employed, he might be said to be truly unhappy; he went to his work with evident reluctance, and could not refrain from sometimes hinting his extreme aversion to it: but the circumstances of his family obliged them to turn a deaf ear*. His mother, however, secretly felt that he * His temper and tone of mind at this period, when he was in his fourteenth year, are displayed in this extract, from an address to Contemplation. THEE do I own, the prompter of my joys, The good things of the world may be my lot, was worthy of better things; to her he spoke more openly he could not bear, he said, the thought of A wayward youth misled by Fancy's vagaries, To memory doubly dear; for growing years Had not then taught me man was made to mourn ; And a short hour of solitary pleasure, Stolen from sleep, was ample recompence For all the hateful bustles of the day. My op'ning mind was ductile then, and plastic, Mark'd by strong lineaments, its haughty tone, Yet still, oh Contemplation! I do love To' indulge thy solemn musings; still the same With thee alone I know to melt and weep, In thee alone delighting. Why along |