SKETCHES OF CHARACTER. 169 out calling to mind his figure on that day, pleading for the poor widow. Hodgkins, whose heart, now beneath the sod, on that day danced for joy. I love to note down these things; a faithful record of the sympathies and kind actions that occur under our own observations, in our times and in our own town, has some influence in binding us together, and is of more personal and practical value than the history of empires; the triumphs of Cæsar; and the conquests of Alexander. We can only take one more example : On Monday night I was awakened from my first nap by the cry of "fire!" and after many unsuccessful attempts succeeded in collecting my scattered wardrobe. You would have laughed, to see me hobbling into Great Charles-street, my shoes unbuckled, my wig all awry, and my lamb's wool hosen about my heels. A man dressing for a fire seldom looks in his glass; and I saw some figures at the fire as comical as my own. I have seen many a fire, and can call to mind Neale and Ned Higgins sitting on the unburnt end of many a rafter, amid the hissing of fire and water-now lost in a cloud of smoke-and now with their faces illumined by the bursting flame. A bebooted fireman, with his ample blue jacket and shining helmetcap, reaching half down his back, rescuing human lives from destruction, is no uninteresting spectacle. At the fire in Great Charles-street there were firemen bold enough, engine-workers active enough, and plenty of Birmingham lads to carry the buckets, but the want of co-operation between the engine-workers and the firemen was a bad piece of business. Drunken fellows, splashing and dashing about, were alternately calling out "Stop!" and "Go on!" without any reason for their vociferation. One man employed in bearing correct intelligence to and fro would be of great importance in every fire. Among the many who bustled about on this occasion, I observed one man more active and persevering than the rest, and passed him repeatedly (for you must know I hobbled about among the buckets as well as I could); at last, I met him quite exhausted-he could stand it no longer, and sat down on a step-ladder. He had affliction enough of his own; his name is Parker; his father and other relations had just been destroyed by the explosion in Lionel-street. His wife at the moment was drawing near to her mortal hour. She, and her child, are since dead. That a man, under such circumstances, should be active in promoting another's welfare, ought not to pass unnoticed, and therefore it is, being an eyewitness, that I record it. A correspondent of the "Chronicle" calls forth another personal trait of "Jeremy Jaunt," for in giving his own name, he speaks slightingly of those who write with "fictitious signatures." I shall talk the matter over with him when we next meet, for we are on good terms, though we think differently on many things. He has good sense enough to know that a man may have some vanity in putting his name to a steam-engine, when he would decline doing so to a newly-invented nut-crack. The communications of old Jeremy are the latter, and if my old friend be of opinion that his resemble the steam-engine in utility, he will not be blamed by me for putting his name in full, nor adding thereto, if he pleases, his birth, parentage, and education. To this appeal "Jeremy" replies: : If an anonymous writer, secure in his concealment, dare to say or do what he would be ashamed to have attached to his name if he make his security the hiding-place of a coward, and from his dark corner stab the passer-by, or disturb the public tranquillity,-such an one deserves to be dragged forth, with his name appended to his deeds; but to give publicity to the name of a writer, who has not thus abused the public, nor intentionally injured any son or daughter of Adam, is an act as useless as it is wanton. Some of the wisest and best men Birmingham ever boasted have, to my knowledge, ANONYMOUS WRITERS. 171 used their pens anonymously. If we have derived amusement or information from them, and they have no ambition in this sense to be public characters, why should we compel them to be so, or deprive ourselves and others of the benefit we enjoy? The child that will discover the sound within his drum, rarely finds pleasure in the experiment, and always destroys the source of his amusement. A like result usually follows the exposure of an anonymous writer's name. Were a man in a mask, Mr. Editor, to enter your "Athenæum," read the "Chronicle," talk pleasantly to those around him, buy a folio of Hogarth's prints and an edition of Shakespeare, give a few sovereigns to the several charities of the town, and perform sundry other acts to gratify himself and benefit others; to tear the mask from such an one against his consent, unless he had played the fool in some way or other, would be a want of common decency and good feeling. It may be an odd thing to wear a mask, but you have your whim, I have mine, and if they trespass not on the whims of others, let us enjoy them. It is possible to give more information than our neighbours desire. When a lad I was present at a conjuror's exhibition (and one or two of your readers were then with me). Cards changed colour, birds flew out of eggs, watches were pounded in mortars, wedding-rings found in a roasted leg of mutton, and all the wonders of legerdemain exhibited to our astonished gaze. We were all in great good humour-the conjuror because he had our money, and we because we had a shilling's worth of fun for our shilling: when some young sprig in a green jacket, up to his knees in boots, would have it to be all a cheat;-that the cards did not change colour, that the birds had been put into eggshells, and the watch removed from the mortar; he persisted in exposing the conjuror, and proving what we all knew well enough before, that he only pretended to do the things we had admired. He succeeded in putting the conjuror in a rage, and the whole party out of temper; and thus ended the exhibition, not a soul thanking him for his pains. 66 Jeremy" sedulously preserving his incognito, kept assuredly some distinguished company. Not to mention other instances of later date, "Courtney Melmoth" was Mr. Mogridge's friend Mr. S. J. Pratt ; "Gabriel Silvertongue" was the "Sheffield Bard," James Montgomery; "Christopher North" was Professor Wilson; "Sylvanus Urban," a host on the topics of "the Gentleman's Magazine," was Mr. Nicholls; "The Sexagenarian," who casts so much light on the authors' books, and booksellers of his time, was the Rev. W. Beloe; "Don Espriella" was Southey; "a Gentleman who had left his lodgings," was Lord John Russell; and "Ralph Robinson," who wrote in the "Windsor Journal," was George III. It is now sufficiently manifest that Mr. Mogridge might adopt at this period, the language of Burns: "A chiel's amang you takin' notes, Not a few of the inhabitants of Birmingham will now learn, for the first time, to whom many stood indebted not only for amusement, then so rare in provincial journals, but for judicious and kindly suggestions. Evidence is still extant that the papers of "Jeremy Jaunt" on their appearance excited no ordinary interest, and, doubtless, they contributed to many improvements which have since taken place in the condition of Birmingham and its people. CHAPTER IX. TRACTS. Oh! could the first archangel's eye, Through all the mazes of the sky, He might behold that lovely one As punctual as the parent sun The Sun of Righteousness, with rays His power and glory thus displays Through nature's darkest night. Rays from that Sun of Righteousness, And could the first archangel's sight He might record,-in its brief flight, MONTGOMERY. ORIGIN OF MR. THE "humble missiles" of the poet were religious tracts, on which it has pleased God to put special honour. It may be said indeed that the Spirit was granted to men, for the express purpose of sending forth inspired tracts throughout the world. All the |