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Biography has been aptly said to be "Philosophy teaching by example." A distinguished American writer tells us that "all things are engaged in writing their history. The planet, the pebble, goes attended by its shadow. The rolling rock leaves its scratches on the mountain; the river, its channel in the soil; the animal, its bones in the stratum ; the fern and leaf, their modest epitaph in the coal; the falling drop makes its sculpture in the sand or the stone. Not a foot steps into the snow or along the ground, but prints, in characters more or less lasting, a map of its march. Every act of the man inscribes itself in the memory of his fellows, and in his own manners and face. The air is full of sounds, the sky of tokens, the ground is all memoranda and signatures, and every object covered over with hints which speak to the intelligent." Another equally distinguished man of our own time, and our fatherland, tells us, in words that I am glad to transfer to my humble page "Think of living!' Thy life, wert thou the 'pitifulest of all the sons of earth,' is no idle dream, but a solemn reality. It is thy own; it is all thou hast to front eternity with. Work then, like a star, unhasting, yet unresting."

PARENTAGE, INFANCY, AND CHILDHOOD.

66

My boast is not that I derive my birth

From loins enthroned, or rulers of the earth:
But higher far my proud pretensions rise,
The child of parents pass'd into the skies."

MAN is rarely or seldom asked in the present age about his parentage; but if from any cause he comes before the world, the question is at once put to him "Who are you?"

Nevertheless, it is interesting, to those more immediately concerned, to know something of the origin and family of such as we are daily coming in contact with, and therefore I shall, for their information, record that my father was the son of a farmer, and was born at Boughten-under-Blean, a small village on the old London road, about six miles from Canterbury.

From a family register, most religiously chronicled, and preserved in an old Bible, I find that my grandfather was born in 1739, and was twice married. Two children were the result of the first marriage; and thirteen of the second, nine sons and four daughters. My father was the third son of the second marriage, and was born in 1782.

I have often heard him speak with admiration of my grandfather as one of the best-looking men in that part of the county, "standing six feet two in height." He ap

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pears to have been a man of kindly disposition, but rather a severe disciplinarian in his family.

At meal times they mustered rather a large party, and it was the custom at that time for the children to stand at the table. My grandfather kept within convenient reach a long osier stick to correct any juvenile indiscretions. The offender was spoken to once, but the second offence was sure to bring down upon him a rap from the long stick. He was quite an oracle in the little village, and was accustomed to frequent the parlour of "The Squirrel" in the evening, to read the newspaper aloud, and to discuss the political questions of the day. My grandfather's death is duly recorded in the family registry, "aged 72 years, 5 months, and 20 days."

I have a vivid recollection of my grandmother, who, at the death of her husband, came to reside at Canterbury, and died there when I was nine years old. Well do I remember her kind and benevolent countenance: she was rather below the average height, a well-proportioned handsome old lady, and in her youthful days must have been very pretty. I return, however, from this little digression, to my father. After receiving a plain commercial education, at the best school in the neighbourhood, he was apprenticed to a bookseller at Canterbury, who combined with that business an extensive printing establishment. Several local publications were printed and published by his master, and amongst others that might be named are "Hasted's History of Canterbury," and the second edition in octavo of that writer's famous "History of Kent."* Both these valuable county histories have been long out of print. The first edition of the latter work has now become so rare that whenever it is found in the market, book collectors and bibliographers will give a large sum for the handsome

* The author's beautiful copy of the first edition of this work is in the Grenville Library at the British Museum, and contains some additional plates, which are very scarce, with a list of them in Hasted's handwriting, and his signature attached.

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volumes. This gentleman was also the printer and publisher, for many years, of the "Kentish Chronicle," and was a member of the corporation.

The young apprentice applied himself so industriously and sedulously to his duties that he soon gained the special notice and esteem of his master, who kindly encouraged his persevering endeavours to become thoroughly acquainted with every branch of the business, and who was much pleased with his amiable and respectful demeanour.

At the expiration of his term of apprenticeship, my father had become so valuable to his master that he took him at once into partnership. Shortly after this, the young tradesman was chosen a member of the Corporation, and so popular was he as a citizen that he was elected Mayor the same year; an incident, I believe, without precedent in the corporate annals of that ancient city.

On the death of his partner he succeeded to the business, and for many years conducted the editorial department of the weekly journal printed and published at the establishment, of which newspaper he was one of the proprietors. He was subsequently a second time elevated to the office of chief magistrate, and continued an active member of the Corporation till his removal from Canterbury.

It is not too much to say of my father, with reference to his official career as a magistrate, that he gained the respect and esteem of all classes by his frankness and amiable manners, nor less by his desire at all times to temper justice with mercy. As a master, I may quote from one who served his apprenticeship to him, and who afterwards became editor of one of the most influential and popular of our metropolitan weekly journals,* in his obituary notice, says, "It might be truly affirmed that to his numerous workmen he was indulgent to a fault, and those who were reared by him to the business of a printer, loved him as a parent and a friend.”

* The "Weekly Dispatch."

6

A Mother's influence.

In my early years we saw very little of my father, save on Sundays, when he gave himself entirely up to his family. Business, and his official duties, absorbed his time and attention during the week. My mother always made it a rule that the children should be in bed by the time he left business, as it was his custom every day to go somewhat carefully through the London papers.

As we grew up he took a loving interest in all that concerned his family, and was especially delighted on the fine Sunday afternoons to take us boys for a long walk. Those of my readers who are acquainted with Canterbury know that the neighbourhood abounds in picturesque scenery; and well do I now remember many of the beautiful walks with my father and brothers on those happy Sundays. My youngest brother would generally contrive to call my father's attention to what is now known as 66 a sweet-stuff shop," and a packet of sweeties was always readily given to add to the enjoyment of our walk. We all loved our father very much, and while I pen these brief recollections of him the beautiful words of the Poet Laureate come instinctively to my mind:

"His memory long will live alone

In all our hearts, as mournful light
That broods above the fallen sun,

And dwells in heaven half the night."

How shall I speak of my mother? It seems but yesterday that her gentle face was shining on me, and I almost hear now her soft and loving voice. Oh! there is nothing like a mother's love. Years can never efface thy memory from my heart. I loved my father, but as I write my bowels are moved at the recollection of my mother. How much do I owe to the thousand gentle influences that were showered upon me from thy self-forgetting daily and hourly ministrations? Much, very

much, do I owe thee, thou sweet guardian of my early days; would that I had followed the advice of thy loving voice in the morning of my life: how many sorrows I

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