Front Cover
 Front Matter
 Title Page
 Table of Contents
 List of Illustrations
 Dr. William Smith: The father English...
 Thomas Waghorn: The pioneer of...
 Robert Raikes: The founder...
 David Nasmith: The founder of the...
 Captain Coram and the foundling...
 Henry Martyn: The church missi...
 Dr. Scoresby: The sailor-clerg...
 The two Brunels: A study for young...
 Marshall Hall: The physical...
 Thomas Dick: The Christian...
 Henry Corty: The story of...
 George Wilson, the chemist; or,...
 Back Cover

Title: Our untitled nobility
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00026971/00001
 Material Information
Title: Our untitled nobility
Physical Description: 278 p., 8 leaves of plates : ill. (some col.) ; 18 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Tillotson, John, ca. 1830-1871
Holman & Bale ( Engraver )
Gall & Inglis ( Publisher )
Publisher: Gall & Ingles
Place of Publication: London
Publication Date: [1873?]
Subject: Geology -- Biography -- Juvenile literature   ( lcsh )
Engineers -- Biography -- Juvenile literature   ( lcsh )
Pioneers -- Biography -- Juvenile literature   ( lcsh )
Missionaries -- Biography -- Juvenile literature   ( lcsh )
Clergy -- Biography -- Juvenile literature   ( lcsh )
Philosophers -- Biography -- Juvenile literature   ( lcsh )
Chemists -- Biography -- Juvenile literature   ( lcsh )
Biography -- Juvenile literature -- Great Britain   ( lcsh )
Prize books (Provenance) -- 1873   ( rbprov )
Biographies -- 1873   ( rbgenr )
Bldn -- 1873
Genre: Prize books (Provenance)   ( rbprov )
Biographies   ( rbgenr )
collective biography   ( marcgt )
non-fiction   ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage: England -- London
Scotland -- Edinburgh
Statement of Responsibility: by John Tillotson ; 8 full page illustrations.
General Note: Date of publication from inscription.
Funding: Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00026971
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: Baldwin Library of Historical Children's Literature in the Department of Special Collections and Area Studies, George A. Smathers Libraries, University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved, Board of Trustees of the University of Florida.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 002238570
notis - ALH9088
oclc - 59821333

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Cover 1
        Cover 2
    Front Matter
        Front Matter
        Page i
    Title Page
        Page ii
        Page iii
        Page iv
        Page v
        Page vi
    Table of Contents
        Page vii
    List of Illustrations
        Page viii
    Dr. William Smith: The father English geology
        Page 9
        Page 10
        Page 11
        Page 12
        Page 13
        Page 14
        Page 15
        Page 16
        Page 17
        Page 18
        Page 19
        Page 20
        Page 21
        Page 22
        Page 23
        Page 24
        Page 25
    Thomas Waghorn: The pioneer of the overland route
        Page 26
        Page 27
        Page 28
        Page 29
        Page 30
        Page 31
        Page 32
        Page 33
        Page 34
        Page 35
        Page 36
        Page 37
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        Page 39
        Page 40
        Page 41
        Page 42
        Page 43
        Page 44
        Page 45
        Page 46
    Robert Raikes: The founder of sunday-schools
        Page 47
        Page 48
        Page 49
        Page 50
        Page 51
        Page 52
        Page 53
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        Page 58
        Page 59
        Page 60
        Page 61
        Page 62
        Page 63
        Page 64
    David Nasmith: The founder of the city mission
        Page 65
        Page 66
        Page 67
        Page 68
        Page 69
        Page 70
        Page 71
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        Page 80
        Page 81
        Page 82
        Page 83
        Page 84
        Page 85
        Page 86
    Captain Coram and the foundling hospital
        Page 87
        Page 88
        Page 89
        Page 90
        Page 91
        Page 92
        Page 93
        Page 94
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        Page 112
        Page 113
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        Page 115
        Page 116
    Henry Martyn: The church missionary
        Page 117
        Page 118
        Page 119
        Page 120
        Page 121
        Page 122
        Page 123
        Page 124
        Page 125
        Page 126
        Page 127
        Page 128
        Page 129
        Page 130
        Page 131
        Page 132
    Dr. Scoresby: The sailor-clergyman
        Page 133
        Page 134
        Page 135
        Page 136
        Page 137
        Page 138
        Page 139
        Page 140
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        Page 156
        Page 157
        Page 158
        Page 159
        Page 160
        Page 161
        Page 162
    The two Brunels: A study for young engineers
        Page 163
        Page 164
        Page 165
        Page 166
        Page 167
        Page 168
        Page 169
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        Page 194
        Page 195
        Page 196
        Page 197
        Page 198
        Page 199
        Page 200
        Page 201
        Page 202
    Marshall Hall: The physical enthusiast
        Page 203
        Page 204
        Page 205
        Page 206
        Page 207
        Page 208
        Page 209
        Page 210
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        Page 222
        Page 223
        Page 224
    Thomas Dick: The Christian philosopher
        Page 225
        Page 226
        Page 227
        Page 228
        Page 229
        Page 230
        Page 231
        Page 232
    Henry Corty: The story of an inventor
        Page 233
        Page 234
        Page 235
        Page 236
        Page 237
        Page 238
        Page 239
        Page 240
        Page 241
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        Page 250
        Page 251
        Page 252
        Page 253
        Page 254
    George Wilson, the chemist; or, the power of the soul over the body
        Page 255
        Page 256
        Page 257
        Page 258
        Page 259
        Page 260
        Page 261
        Page 262
        Page 263
        Page 264
        Page 265
        Page 266
        Page 267
        Page 268
        Page 269
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        Page 271
        Page 272
        Page 273
        Page 274
        Page 275
        Page 276
        Page 277
        Page 278
    Back Cover
        Page 279
        Page 280
        Page 281
Full Text

A: -A Ik






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No sooner did the stubborn child see him on his knees on her account,
than she burst into tears.-p. 58.





8 full pagt Illustrations.



NoBIIrTY, in its comprehensive sense, refers to a
larger and wider class than that to which the term
is usually applied. Like the word gentleman, it
properly signifies a state of mind and heart rather
than of condition; money cannot buy it, kings
cannot confer it, birth cannot ensure it: true
Nobility, a man must win for himself.
1 This self-won true nobility is found among
*all classes: it lifts its branches high, and buries
its roots deep; there are rich and poor, known
and unknown, titled and untitled, of this dis-
tinguished order.
How many names shine out on the pages of
this peerage, brighter than the jewels of the
coronet, by good deeds done; how many brave


men and women have worked their way into the
illustrious roll, and without being "born great,"
have "achieved greatness." Let us breathe no
whisper of disparagement against titled nobility,
so long as coronets and crimson robes are worn
by noble-men.
But how many noblemen there are untitled-
those who have set themselves to the task of
accomplishing important work, and have spent
their lives in that high enterprise; men who have
sown good seed, but have reaped no harvest; who
have planted trees, but have never reclined be-
neath their shadow; who have dug wells, without
ever tasting of the cool spring. These men have
lived, and laboured, and died; upon them no title
has been bestowed, no grants voted, no honours
given. Their names are unregistered in our peer-
age, and the College of Heralds is unconcerned
about them. But what good work have they
done for their fellows?
To some of these brave spirits-noblemen
untitled-we draw the attention of our readers in


this book. The biographies are necessarily brief,
,but the endeavour has been made, and it is
hoped with success, to furnish impartial and
accurate information about the characters intro-
We have traced the life-long labours of
Strata" Smith, in his zeal for British Geology;
of Waghorn, seeking out in the face of much
opposition the overland route to India; of Raikes,
in his solicitude for the religious instruction
of the young; of Coram, the bluff sea captain,
in his care for outcast children; of Nasmith,
travelling far and wide, a missionary to the
"baptized heathen;" of Henry Martyn, in his
devoted work among the heathen of India; of
Scoresby, as a sailor and a clergyman; of the
Brunels, in their engineering enterprise; of Cort,
bankrupted and beggared by his discoveries; of
Hall, the physical enthusiast, and Dick, the
" Christian philosopher; and Wilson, whose life
was a long dying, but a life of cheerfulness and
usefulness to man.


The lessons of these men's lives are plain and
practical. They teach us that it is the bravest
and best thing in the world to be unselfish-that
the men who would do good must look for no
earthly reward; but that in the very doing of
the good there is a higher enjoyment and a
nobler satisfaction than wealth or honour can
bring with them. If we had to design a coat of
arms for those men, it should be-stars argent
in a field azure, the crest a cross, the motto,
"Go thou and do likewise."



Ro 26


THE PATHLESS DESERT ....... .. ... 40
NASMITH ARRESTED AS A SPY ... ... ... ... 79

CORAM'S RECEPTION AT COURT ... ... ... ... 102
MARSHALL HALL AND THE BULLY ... ... ... ... 206


"No good will ever come o' such ways!" that
was old William of Over-Norton's frequently-
expressed opinion; "the boy will be no use to
himself, nor others either; what is the good of
his picking up here and there bits of stone, and
chipping away at 'em as if it were real earnest
work; what will pound-stones, and pundits, and
oven stones, do for him, without he knows the
secret o' making bread out of flint,, and warm
clothing out o' grindstone? No; I won't have
patience with the boy when I see him loitering
when he ought to be busy, and maundering over
a stone when he eught to be at his book !"
Old William's nephew and namesake was un-
questionably a very singular lad. He was shrewd
enough on some points, cheerful enough about


somo things, but he had strange ways with him,
that were not the best adapted to make either a
thrifty farmer or prosperous grazier. In the grey
light of the morning, in the purple glow of the
evening, this boy might have been seen wandering
about the neighbourhood of Churchill, Gloucester-
shire. Now sitting silent in deep thought under
the shadow of some old tree, now groping amid a
heap of wayside pebbles, now chipping at a stone
fence, now idly turning a flint over and over in
his hand, and eyeing it as curiously as though it
were a diamond of the first water; now labouring
industriously in clay or sand, and carrying home,
as treasures, odd bits of flint and sandstone.
Nowonder oldWilliam, a thriving, well-to-do man,
who knew well enough the worth of a day's toil,
should write down this boy an idler. Not a mis-
chievous lazy-bones, orchard-robbing, bird-nest-
ing, nut-gathering, school-truant, who saw no use
for books except as missiles, no use for slate and
pencil except for delineations of pedagogue por-
traiture; no mere do-nothing,-"lawyance"-afflicted
idler, who liked nothing so well as an horizontal
on the grass, and ,sun-bath, and hated perpen-
dicularity and motion ; but a whimsical idler,


always busy gathering stones and pebbles *s if
they were gold nuggets; wandering and wonder-
ing, theorizing and speculating, talking, if he
talked at all, of what was under the ground, and
not of what would grow or feed upon it. Green
fields and yellow uplands, pastures where fat
cattle grazed, what were they to him? They
Sought to have been everything, we imagine, for
his father was a yeoman, as his father had been
before him; and his father's father, and so was
UncleWilliam-old William of Over-Norton, from
whom some expectations were entertained of a
pecuniary kind. Was it not more than hinted
that "the would man had saved a biggish bit o'
money ?" and to whom should he leave it but to
his nephew, always supposing the nephew deserved
his patronage-which, alas, for said nephew's
prospects, seemed improbable enough. Never-
theless the uncle could not help admitting that
the boy had shrewd notions, not on fat beasts and
pastures green, but on most things in a general
way, and was tolerably practical and coherent on
the subject of drainage, a very important subject
to the agricultural interest.
This boy was William Smith, son of William


Smih; begotten of a race of farmers who had
flourished in the rich lands of Oxfordshire and
Gloucestershire for many a generation, singularly
free from tooth-ache and emulative of the cente-
narians, sowing, and reaping, and thrashing; and
rearing horses and cattle in that dear, delightful,
easy, old-fashioned way that contrasts so strik-
ingly with the fast age in which our lot is cast.
The Smiths had intermarried with the Raleighs,
said to be descendants of the gallant hero who
lost his head at Westminster, and who certainly
spell their name the same way. When one of
the William Smiths married Lucy Raleigh, he
obtained with her a marriage portion of 110;
and received from his father, as a settlement on
the bride, one half-yard and a half-quarter of a
yard land, arable, meadow, and pasture lands,
situate in Churchill Field." When this piece of
land was sold eighty years later it was valued at
700. But the subject of our sketch had little to
do with this landed property. His father had
married, not a Raleigh, but another Smith; Anne
Smith, of Long Compton in Gloucestershire, an
intelligent, prudent, virtuous woman, well-beloved
by her son William, who in late years sketched a


Spend and ink portrait of her from memory, .and
wrote some words of description-words which
-show how the recollection of his childhood was
full of pleasure in his advancing years. His
-father he lost when almost too young to under-
stand how great the loss must be, but he spoke
of-him afterwards with deep affection and respect.
SPoe Willie, left to his mother's care, who had
Siough to do with her three orphaned bairns, was
sent to the village school. There he learned to
read and write, and found that two and two made
four; but the agricultural mind was not in those
days intent upon information, and a little learning
was made to go a long way.
William Smith was bent on improvement.
. He did not propose to himself any very definite
course of proceeding; he did not plan out his
life, saying, "Now I will direct my attention to
drainage, I will then render myself famous as a
surveyor; I will practise as an engineer, receive,
as some wealthy company's servant, a handsome
salary, spend every farthing in prosecuting my
geological studies; travel over England and
Wales at my own cost, making plans, and draw-
ings, and models of the land; wear out my life,


spend my fortune, bring myself to the brink
of bankruptcy and beggary, in order to lay the
foundation of geological science in England "-he
did not, we say, argue thus with himself, and it
may be, could he have foreseen it all, Smith's
cattle and Smith's corn might have been better
known than Smith's Geology, and that the county
paper might at last have registered the death of a
man who was universally respected and died worth
money I However this may be, William Smith
kept gathering his pound-stones, pundits, and
oven-stones, and drew upon himself many a
sharp rebuke from Uncle William. He cultivated
a taste for drawing also-highly disapproved of by
his uncle-and resorted to many ingenious expe-
dients to obtain a little colour and brushes, with
which to paint in glowing tints somebody's cot-
tage with a style of his own. Then he began to
read cheap second-hand books-money screwed
out of unwillingUncle's pocket-but hard thought-
compelling volumes, that taught him no more of
turnips or of mangel-wursel than they did of legs
of mutton or ribs of beef,-strong books, akin to
the stones he gathered in his rambles, but waking
up within him a yearning desire to discover what


the ground was made of, and how the various
formations were arranged below the soil on which
crops flourished and cattle fed.
The subject of drainage was, we have said, the
only one which Uncle William would allow his
nephew freely to converse with him upon; and
on this subject the youth exhibited so much
practical sagacity that some of his suggestions
were adopted with an eminently successful result.
This set some of the farmers thinking-not by
any means an ordinary process with the agricul-
tural mind almost a century ago. Smith, in after
years, used to tell a story of a friend of his, who
inquired of a farmer why he did not attend the
agricultural meetings ? "Why, noa, zur; I have
been thinking, zur, these agricultural meetings
don't do much good." "I tell you what, my
friend," was the answer, "they have done some
good, for they have set you thinking; a thing you
never did before in your life !"
Well, it was thought, young Smith having
begun to set the mental machinery of Agricola in
motion, that the youth might be useful to a Mr.
Edward Webb, of Stow-in-the-Wold.
Mr. Webb was a surveyor, who united with


that employment the practice of an engineer, no
uncommon thing in those days. He was a self-
taught man, was pleased with William Smith,
and readily gave him a place in his office. Smith
spent a very pleasant and profitable period with
his employer, his time professionally occupied in
surveying, with a dash at engineering now and
again, and a sly jest at other people's cost.
For example, there was a certain man who endea-
voured to construct a steam apparatus, and failed;
forthwith Webb's office rang with the rhymes:-
Jonathan Hull, with his paper skull,
He tried to make a machine;
But he, like an ass, could not bring it to pass,
And now he's ashamed to be seen."
The business of the office rendered it neces-
sary for Mr. Smith-Mister is a title won by age,
and the youth had attained to it-to make fre-
quent excursions on surveying expeditions. He
was very successful, in a business, practical point
of view, a field-marshal of the theodolite; and he
was no less successful in his own geological obser-
vations. He began to make drawings and plans;
he constructed a model of the strata, with odds
and ends, and "gum to represent real water."
Chalk, green sand, wealden, lias, new red sand-


stone, magnesian limestone, coal measures, mill-
stone grit, carboniferous limestone, old red sand-
stone, slates, gneiss, granite,-with all these he
was cultivating an excellent acquaintance; other
men might travel over England to describe its
topography; others might tell of its vegetation,
its climate; others might parcel it out into coun-
ties, and be content to enumerate the idiosyncra-
sies of the shires; he was resolved to go below
the surface, to discover the secrets of the succes-
sive strata, to elevate the geology of Britain-at
that time a mere collection of theoretical views
and vague notions-to the dignity of a science.
The more he investigated the subject, the more
interested he became. Readily enough he under-
took the surveyorship of a projected canal, for it
made it necessary that he should travel far and
wide over England to examine the physical condi-
tion of the country. Very successful was he.
He brought common sense and great experience
to bear on the question, and utterly rejected those
fallacies which were then very generally accepted
as truth.
It is related of Mr. Smith, that while engaged
in some mining operations, it was proposed and


carried that the divining-rod should be employed,
in order to ascertain whereabouts water might be
found. He pointed out the uttei absurdity of
this superstition, but was overruled. A diviner
was introduced with his sensitive rod, the inflec-
tions of which were to point out the direction of
the waters. Smith filled his pockets with pebbles,
and, unknown to the operator, dropped one
wherever the rod indicated water. When the
trial came to a conclusion, he politely asked the
operator to go through the experiment again.
His wish was complied with, and not to one of the
former points indicated did the rod turn. Smith
explained the absurdity. "If," he said, "the
water hereabouts changes its locality so rapidly
the less we have to do with it the better."
In association with the Somersetshire Coal
Canal, Mr. Smith obtained a comfortable and com-
paratively lucrative engagement. He received,
first of all, a guinea a day; then two guineas, then
three. He spent it all. Not in lavish expendi-
ture, not in prodigal waste, not in luxurious
living and expensive company, not in any selfish
indulgence, but in the prosecution of the one pro-
minent and permanent purpose of his life-the


P investigation of British Geology: a subject of the
.utmost importance to a country like our own.
Mr. Smith took up his residence at Bath, a
charming retreat beautified by his great taste
and skill at a trifling cost, where he made the
acquaintance of the Rev. Benjamin Richardson,
San ardent student of science, by whom he was
Introduced to the Rev. J. Townsend, a gentle-
man of scholarly attainments, and deeply in-
terested in philosophical investigation. Among
the select circle of men of genuine ability by
whom he was surrounded, he soon became known
as "Strata" Smith. His conversation was never so
animated as when he spoke of inanimate things,
never so lively as when discoursing on stones.
He was resolved to publish the information he
had collected; to give to England the story and
picture of her own material wealth beneath the
soil. But geological maps are expensive in the
Getting up; the cost of bringing out what Mr.
Smith proposed would be three thousand pounds
at the least. About this time (1799) England
was literally throwing away millions. The French
war was costing the nation an immense sum
annually; Government obtained ample means for


the purchase of gunpowder, but could not afford
to aid the laborious geologist. At a sheep-shear-
ing festival at Woburn, Sir Joseph Banks pro-
posed a subscription, and offered 50; but there
was no enthusiasm, and Smith was still left to work
out his book on his own resources. These resources
became less by a misunderstanding with the Canal
Company-a misunderstanding which brought
Smith to London, where he settled. Here he was
introduced to the Duke of Bedford, a liberal
patron, of whom great things might fairly have
been expected; but grim death, who has no more
respect for a peer than he has for a pauper, laid his
hand on the duke, and left the poor geologist not
only to mourn a patron, but to weep for a friend.
Still hopeful, William Smith went on with his
labours. This Geology of England and Wales,
this strata delineated, must be brought out; but,
alas! the enterprising publisher figured in the
Gazette; there was no one ready to hazard the
necessary funds; Government was far too busy
with the preparation of a certain compound, the
main ingredients of which are charcoal and salt-
petre, to concern itself about oolitic formations or
old red sandstone. The strata had waited for


thousands of years to be delineated, it might wait
a little longer.
Mr. Smith patiently laboured at his business,
and effected some very useful work. He aston-
ished every one by the simplicity of his plans.
It is'related of a young rustic who went to see the
great Garrick play the character of a ploughboy,
that he came away much provoked: "Call that
play-acting," said he; "why, I've seen the plough-
boys do the like every day of my life !" In a
somewhat similar spirit complaints were fre-
quently urged upon the engineering operations of
William Smith. When his serviceswere called into
request in connection with the Norfolk and Suffolk
seabreach, all sorts of plans were proposed for the
keeping out of that dread invader, the sea-
timber iron-girded, stone-walls, anything strong,
Smith's plan was simply to adopt that which he
had seen in nature. Banks of sand and pebbles
elsewhere kept out the sea; here were the mate-
rials at hand-the very action of the waves would
Only serve to consolidate the strength of the
defence. It was tried, and succeeded admirably;
but everybody said, "Why, anybody might have
thought of that !"


At length, in the Waterloo year, Cary, an en-
terprising publisher, brought out Smith's book.
It was a work of immense importance, extraor-
dinary labour, and no little risk. Government,
having a little time on hand after sending Napo-
leon to St. Helena, awarded a premium of 50 to
the author!
Did not old William of Over-Norton speak truly
when he prophecied no good to his nephew from
pundits and pound-stones? His book was pushed,
and excited a good deal of attention, but he, its
author, who had spent the best years of his life in
its preparation, what cared the world for him?
Great was the value of his work, great the pains
he had expended on it, great things in association
with it he was still planning, still carrying out.
His geological maps of the counties entitled him
to ample reward, but reward was not forthcoming
-not even help. And so he laboured on, unas-
sisted, laying the foundation broad\ and deep of
the science of geology. He laboured hard and
spent freely, and poverty-grim gentleman-usher
of the bedchamber of genius-was in constant
attendance, inviting him to repose in the grave.
His pleasant villa at Bath had to be resigned,


sold to strangers, the trees he had planted, the
flowers he had tended, the ornamental water
' which he had introduced. Next must go the
house in London, and, worst of all, the splendid
collection of geological specimens which he had
been busily collecting all his life. This was
bought by the British Museum for a few hundred
pounds, and Smith parted from them as from
dear old friends.
No home in London, no home at Bath, no
cases of geological treasures, Smith goes forth a
wanderer, and the world loses sight of and forgets
him. He was still engaged in professional pursuits,
still earning his daily bread in the sweat of his
brain, and devoted all his leisure, all his scanty
means, for his means were, indeed, scanty, to the
earnest passion of his life, Geology.
In 1818 Mr. Smith visited his native place.
He had been absent from those scenes of his
childhood for many a long year, he returned to
them with the bitter experience of life's disap-
pointments. His relations were still thriving
farmers. Crops and cattle had made them pros-
perous; pound-stones and pundits had made him
poor. Poor; well, poor is after all a doubtful


term. Would such men as Smith, Hall, Wilson,
Raikes, Scoresby, all the peerage of untitled no-
bility, yield up the wealth which they had ac,
quired, the wealth of good deeds done, for all the
riches of the Lydian king? No; these men
laboured for something better than material pros-
perity. Smith, for example, had revealed the
geological strata of Britain; had laid the founda-
tion of a new science; the fact of having accom-
plished this brought with it its own reward. He
still had friends; still possessed sufficient means
to allow of his moving from place to place in
the prosecution of his studies; he had the satis-
faction of seeing the principles which he had been
the first to develop tested and proved. Some-
where about twenty years after he had published
his book on the strata, years after his geological
county maps had been issued, he was brought
into further notice, and received such testimonials
as learned and scientific societies could offer. A
few more years still spent in geological studies,
and the good man died! He had passed his
whole life in diligent investigation of God's works,
and could peacefully, calmly, resign his spirit into
the hands of the beneficent Creator.


Towards the latter part of his life, Dr. William
Smith-never was diploma fairer won-gave
many interesting lectures on his favourite science.
And a pleasant thing it was to hear that good
old man, the FATHER OF ENGLISH GEOLOGY, read-
ing to a crowded and attentive auditory his
"Sermons on Stones."




FRox the earliest period of the world's history,
India has attracted the attention of all other na-
tions. Its ancient grandeur has expanded into
apocryphal magnificence, and its wealth, real and
fabulous, has aroused the envy and excited the
cupidity of mankind. According to old historians,
Sesostris, king of Egypt, penetrated into India,
but his conquests do not appear to have been of
lasting duration. Next came Darius, the Persian,
who, on the authority of Herodotus, was success-
ful enough to derive from the province of Hin-
dostan an annual revenue equal to five hundred
thousand pounds. Alexander the Great overran
the Persian empire; kings and conquerors swal-
lowing up each other,-even as the animalculae in
the water-drop devour and slay; carried his arms.
forward as far as Bactria, and followed up his


successes by the invasion of India. He had read
in the ancient fables of Greece, that Bacchus and
Hercules, strange allies, had attempted a similar
experiment, and he who had wept for other worlds
to conquer, was not to be outdone by gods or
men. On entering India, the petty princes of
the country made submission, and declared him
-to be the third son of Jupiter; but he soon found
that even all the thunderbolts of his sire, however
brisk and active the Cyclopean manufacture,
would be but of small account in subjugating
a country doubly defended by nature and
art. The city of Massago, the rock Aornas, the
river Taxila, the army of Porus were overcome;
but every victory necessitated fresh conquests,
and the chivalry of Macedonia, exhausted by
fatigue,-for the gathering of laurels is no summer
holiday pastime,-at length fell back, and the
death of Alexander was speedily followed by the
downfall of his eastern empire.
But the traditions of Indian wealth survived
the empire, and for centuries the stories of its in-
exhaustible treasures and unexampled magnifi-
cence were kept alive. Everything which could
excite the passions or warm the imagination was


related of India. It was a glorious dream-land,
the earth of gold, the trees bearing precious
stones, the rivers of richest wines, the palaces of
silver and marble, and over all a delicious per-
fume instead of air. There the inhabitants dwelt
in supine and voluptuous indolence, an easy prey
to foreign conquerors bent on their subjugation.
Twelve different times, Mahmoud of Ghuzni in-
vaded India. The fierce hordes of barbarians
came down like vultures on a battle-field, and set
up the Patan empire. Then came that wily
Mogul, Zingis Khan, who left, as traces of his
march, whole miles of slain. And next to him
came Tamerlane, who pursued his conquering
march, to Delhi, which was given up to massacre
and pillage. The conquest of Timour, however,
like that of Zingis, was not permanent. Sultan
Baber was more fortunate, for he it was who laid
the foundation of the Mogul empire, the last re-
presentative of which so notoriously figured in
the atrocities committed during the Indian rebel-
lion. Not that the Moguls maintained their
authority intact. Nadir Shah fell on them, and
utterly crushed their power. Meanwhile the
English settlers, who had come over in Queen


Bess's time, were gradually making their influence
felt all through the peninsula. The power of the
British settlers, by its simple growth, was rapidly
spreading over India. Like that famous tree, the
descending branches of which take root in the
ground and form new parent stems, so was this
chartered company of London traders, increasing
in importance and authority. At last, little more
than one hundred years ago, an act of open ag-
gression and a deed of wanton cruelty perpetrated
by the Moguls, brought down upon their heads a
speedy retribution. The pen of the diplomatist
was cast aside; the sword leapt from its scabbard,
and on the field of Plassy the affairs of India
underwent the mightiest change which they had
everknown. It is not essential that we should stop
hereto inquire whether or no we had the right, as
Unquestionably we had the power, to make our-
selves the masters of India. It is a question
Which has already excited a large amount of
controversy, but the fact remains the same, and
as a fact, without comment, we let it stand.
British supremacy was asserted, and step by step
advanced, till Hindostan fell completely beneath


our sway, and Queen Victoiia has been proclaimed
the Empress of India.
A strange eventful history is that of India,
full of the most startling vicissitudes. But of all
the circumstances which are recorded in its an-
nals, there is nothing so strange, so terrible, or
so absorbing in interest as that of the recent
mutiny. India has afforded a field of curious in-
vestigation to the historian and the antiquarian;
its physical geography, its flora, and its fauna,
have occupied the attention of the naturalist; the
condition of its people, its infanticide, and Sut.
teeism have excited the benevolent exertions of
the philanthropist; the immense importance and
inestimable value of the peninsula have won for it
attention; its facilities for commercial enterprise
and trading speculation have occupied the time,
money, and talents of our business men; while
its huge and fantastic system of idolatry, so in-
terwoven with all the ordinary occupations of its
people, as to appear inseparable from them, have
called for the religious exertions of every Christian
community. But every interest, of whatever kind,
was shaken by that Indian mutiny. All the ex-
ertions of the philanthropist, all the efforts of the


Christian, all the prestige of the soldier, all the
speculation of the trader, all the hopes of the
patriot, all the schemes of the statesman, were
threatened with destruction. The tide of rebel-
lion rolled forward, and nothing but the fiat of
Deity could give the command, Hitherto shalt
thou .come, and no further, and here shall thy
Sprud waves be stayed." Those blood-stained
.;aves rolled back. India emerged as the waters
assuaged; but everything had changed, and the
aspect borne by the country, still trembling with
its recent convulsion, was different from what it
had been. The rivers, the-rice-fields, the fan-
like palm, the bamboo, with its graceful stems,
the thick foliage of the mango, the gardens filled
with splendid flowers, with giant creepers, and
with trees that scent the air with perfume,-all
' these might be as singularly beautiful as they had
'been before; nature smiles when the storm is
over, and hides her secret under her robe of
Sflower-spangled verdure; but the memory of the
past cannot be lost. Sultry Cawnpore, with its
awful well-putrid Delhi, have associations be-
longing to them which cannot be forgotten. They
are marked by atrocious massacre, and worse than


massacre; the very names of those places call up
a ghastly picture ; for there such things were done
as seldom have been done, even by devil-inspired
man, since fire from heaven rained on the cities
of the plain. There is, however, connected with
all this, some of the most splendid passages of
arms that were ever recorded by the historian.
We think with pride and gratification of those
men of iron who stood firmer than a Macedonian
phalanx, firm as a rock beaten by the impotent
waves, against the apparently overwhelming num-
bers of the foe. We crown with laurel-alas,
that the cypress should be entwined with the
wreath!-those gallant leaders whose glance
"thawed cold fear" in the breasts of the most
timid; and we unite right willingly in an acclaim
to those who knew how to die, but did not know
how to surrender. A small band, a mere handful
of men, but they maintained the supremacy of
England and the integrity of the British flag; in
the spirit of the hero of Agincourt, they seemed
to have said:-
If we are marked to die, we are enough
To do our country loss; and if to live,
The fewer men the greater share of honour."


And now that the storm is over, that our Indian
empire is established on a firm basis, India be-
comes even more interesting and attractive than
before. All that can be learned about it is eagerly
sought; we want to know more of the country,
more of its people, more of its customs and man-
ners. The civil service offers tempting places,
there is every inducement to regard India with
favour, and a general disposition to know all,
about it. Its sal-ammonia, and muslins, and
calico, and diamonds, and indigo, and opium; raw
silk, cotton, sugar, spices, Cashmere shawls, rice,
pepper, gold, saltpetre; its teak and sandal-wood,
its tobacco, hemp, and flax; its cinnamon, and
castor oil, and pearls, and chintzes; its iron, cop-
per, coal, to say nothing of borax, lapis-lazuli,
and a host of other things, are full of interest
for the manufacturer and trader; its cocoa-
nuts, and pappaws, mangoes, pine apples, plan-
tains, quaros, melons, oranges, limes, tamarinds,
plums, dates, citrons, yams; antelopes, camels,
elephants, wild boars, hyenas, ponies, leopards,
panthers, snakes, lions, buffaloes, bears, one-
horned rhinoceroses and tigers, have interest for
zoologist and botanist, for man of study and for


man of sport; its temples, Brahmin, Boodh, Seik,
Moslem, Thug, Parsee, and others, are attractive
to the antiquarian and historian, while they
awaken the sympathy of the Christian. Everything
about India is interesting, and books, ancient and
modern,-Gleig and Heber, Macfarlane, Wilson,
Orme, Alison, Elphinstone, Tennent, Marshman,
Mill, Stoqueler, Turner, Justin, Pliny, Strabo,
Diodorus, Murray, and Herodotus, are in great
Now there is one man's name in connection
with India which deserves to be especially no-
ticed-not as a soldier, statesman, writer, mis-
sionary, antiquarian, or trader-but for having
shown us how to get to India by an overland
route, and by steam communication.
The honour of having accomplished this object
is due to the late Lieutenant Waghorn, whose
whole life was devoted to the completion of his
meritorious plan.
Thomas Waghorn was born at Chatham in
the year 1800. He was the descendant of a good
family, not particularly illustrious-and woe for
us if we had none but illustrious families in the
land, let us never be unthankful for the decent


mede of mediocrity-but highly respectable. He
received a good plain education, and at twelve
years of age was entered as a midshipman in his
Majesty's service to begin life in the cockpit.
No events of any great importance marked his
early days. Nelson was dead, and the splendour
of his naval exploits threw minor actions into the
shade, and the state of Europe was being chiefly
adjusted by battles ashore. However, the young
middy managed to make himself known, and
gained an almost unprecedented honour-that of
being made lieutenant at the age of seventeen.
The close of the French war, the banishment of
Napoleon, the restoration of the Bourbons, and
readjustment of the map of Europe by the men of
the pen, put an end. to the prospect of much
further promotion in the royal navy, and con-
sequently Lieutenant Waghorn transferred his
services to the Honourable East India Company,
then a really important power in the State.
Wlile associated with the East India Com-
pany, he took his share in the Burmese war,
being despatched with a flotilla to the pestilential
shores of Aracan. This district extends along
the western coast of the great eastern peninsula


of South Asia. The coast, in the central part
especially, contains many good harbours, is much
indented by creeks and studded with islands and
rocks, which render the mouth of the Aracan
River difficult to approach, especially during the
period of the monsoons; but the unhealthiness of
the climate is the chief drawback of the country.
During the period of Waghorn's being on the
station, the troops died in great numbers from
intermittent fevers and other effects of malaria.
His conduct in all respects during this trying
season was most exemplary; he rendered all pos-
sible service wherever his good offices could be
of use; availed himself of every opportunity
of acquiring exact information as to the condi-
tion of the country; and gave evidence of the
possession of daring courage and personal bravery
of no ordinary kind. It will be remembered that
when the British army invaded Burmah, and
captured the important town of Rangoon, in the
Delta of the Irawaddy, the court of Ava heard of
the loss with surprise but without alarm. The
Burmese had not yet been taught the superiority
of European courage and military skill. So con-
fident were they of capturing the whole British


army, that many of the court ladies made arrange-
ments with the Burmese officers for numbers of
white slaves; the only fear was that the British
would retreat before their enemies could have
time to catch them. Waghorn took his share in
giving the Burmese a lesson. They had to learn
the humiliating truth that submission to the
"white slaves" was their only prudent course,
and so the Lord of the Golden Palace, as the
monarch was styled, yielded up a large portion of
his territory; and Assam, Aracan, Yeh, Tavoy,
and Tenasserim were ceded to the British.
On his return from the Burmese expedition,
Lieutenant Waghorn devoted himself to the ac-
complishment of the great object which he had at
heart, namely, the opening up of steam communi-
cation with the East Indies, and the establishment
of a short and rapid journey across the desert.
This project, the immense advantage of which to
the commercial and political interests of the
British cannot be over-estimated, instead of
meeting with support, was not only disregarded,
but absolutely opposed. Merchants and mariners
seemed alike insensible to the utility of the
scheme. They regarded the efforts of Lieutenant


Waghorn as futile, and as productive of no good
results if practicable, and they offered formidable
opposition to the execution of his plans. But in
the face of difficulties and discouragements under
which most men would have succumbed, Waghorn
persevered. He was determined to succeed, and
the public could not fail to have their attention
drawn to his project. Distance he argued was a
mere convertible term; localities far away might
be brought within easy range by facilities of tra-
velling. India was England's mightiest depend-
ency, and yet so far removed that no free inter-
course could be maintained. A sea voyage to
India in the old-fashioned sailing vessels occupied
three or four months, exposed the passenger to
much discomfort and to many risks. Why should
this continue, when steam might successfully be
employed, and the route to the East, to the fabled
land of Cathay, be rendered both expeditious and
convenient. Imagine this projector, warmly en-
thusiastic in his plan, going from place to place,
writing to this man and to that, making interest
with this functionary and the other, labouring at
his scheme as if honour and reward were to be
won by it. Wherever he went he was coldly re-


ceived. Shipping agents would not listen to him,
would have nothing to do with his plan, would
not hear him, nor read his letters, nor concern
Themselves in the least degree about it, except
among themselves, as they passed the bottle, over
that mad Waghorn, who would perhaps start a
new route to the moon next, or establish a steam
communication between Nothing and Nowhere!
Parliament men had no faith in him, could not
see the practicability of his plan, thorough Tories
thought they could detect Radicalism at the bot-
tom of it, and Whigs were satisfied it was a Con-
servative measure. Newspaper people did not
come manfully to his help, but let him fight his
own battle, and bravely he fought it-steam
communication with the East, an overland route
to India-the one sole object of his life.
In the year 1829 he was summoned before
Lord Ellenborough, President of the India Board,
and Mr. Lock, Chairman of the Court of Directors,
and was instructed to proceed to India through
Egypt, with despatches to Sir John Malcolm,
Governor of Bombay. He got to Alexandria in
Stwenty-six days, reached Trieste in nine days
and a-half, being disappointed of a steam vessel


at Suez-a Government vessel which was not
there, never having been sent on account of
having broken her machinery, a fact which had
been overlooked until it was too late for Wag-
horn to know anything about it; but Waghorn,
finding no vessel there, hired an open boat,
and, guided by the north star and the sun,
arrived at Jeddah, a distance of 620 miles, in
six days and a half. During this hazardous
voyage, he satisfied himself that for every pur-
pose of interest, politically, morally, and com-
mercially, this was the proper route between
England and the East.
For the discovery thus made Waghor re-
ceived the cordial thanks of three-quarters of the
But Waghorn's work was not completed, it
was only begun. When travellers arrived at
Alexandria, the journey between that city and
the Red Sea was one of very great difficulty.
The desert had to be crossed. The traveller in
the desert saw nothing but one vast sandy pros-
pect bounded only by the sky; not a tree, not a
shrub, not a flower, not a blade of grass-a
banner of promise to wave in the air-sand before

-i -

The traveller in the desert saw nothing but one vast sandy prospect,
bounded only by the sky.-p. 40.


and sand behind; sand on the right hand, sand on
the left; sand stretching out as calm as a lake, or
driven into waves like a stormy sea, whirling
into sandy spouts like pillars of fire. In the
midst of the stifling sand, one might form some
idea of what was meant by the pathless desert.
The camel was the ship of the desert, with its-

"Load of precious things;
Silks for merchants, gold for kings;
Pearls of Ormuz rich and rare-
Damascene and Indian ware-
Bale on bale, and heap on heap."

So in solemn procession the camel caravans pro-
ceeded, romantic and mysterious enough in ap-
pearance, suggestive of old eastern stories, and of
patriarchal days, but not in unison with the me-
lody of our modern march of progress.
Lieutenant Waghorn resolved on the esta-
blishment of omnibuses on the desert, and the
erection of stations on tha arid waste. It was a
daring innovation, and a great outcry was made
against it. With the exception of some trifling
assistance from the Bombay Steam Committee, he
had to rely entirely on his own resources, but,
nothing daunted, he determined to carry out his


plan. Eight stations, or hotels, were accordingly
erected, at equal distances from each other, across
the desert. Their number was afterwards in-
creased. Omnibuses were built, each to contain
six persons; four omnibuses forming a caravan,
guards and coachmen appointed, and the first
grand innovation made on the antique fashion of
the Egyptian. The 'buses were not unlike
bathing-machines at an English watering-place.
The stations were plain buildings, but as com-
fortable, after European fashion, as circumstances
would allow; and the improvement on the old
caravans could not be questioned. Good beds
were to be had at the central station, and some
hours for rest allowed. All parties who arrived
between six and twelve at night found supper pre-
pared for them; between twelve and six in the
morning, breakfast; for the remainder of the
day, dinner. Thus comfortably housed, drinking
pale ale and partaking of a well-served dinner,
one could scarcely realize the notion of what
desert travelling used to be in days of yore:-

"In silent horror o'er the boundless waste,
The driver Hassan with his camels haste;


One cruise of water on his back he bore,
And his light scrip contained a scanty store;
The sultry sun hath gained the middle sky,
And not a tree and not a herb was nigh;
Shrill roar'd the wind and dreary was the view."

Such was Collins's picture of travelling in the
desert, but Waghorn altered all that. The ac-
count of hotels and omnibuses in the grand de-
sert was at first received with incredulity at home.
People were very sceptical, and were disposed to
regard the affair as a hoax, but it soon became
well known that the project of Waghorn had been
absolutely accomplished, and that the projector
was superintending the whole of the arrange-
ments in person, with small prospect of pecuniary
reward and the certainty of a shattered constitu-
tion. He provided vessels for the conveyance of
passengers on the Nile and Mahmoudie Canal,
and worked the overland mails to and from India,
from 1831 to 1834. In the February of the latter
year, he succeeded in carrying letters from Bom-
bay to England in forty-seven days, without any
steam from Alexandria to London.
Lieutenant Waghorn pointed out three dis-


tinct routes to India: the route via Trieste,
namely, from London to Dover, Dover to Calais,
so to Paris, Lyons, Turin, Milan, Venice, Trieste;
a mail route through the Papal States via Ancona;
and another route by way of Genoa. He not
only explored these routes himself, and opened
up highways to India until his time never dreamed
of, but he set to work other active intelligence,
and to his exertions the honour is fairly due of
having served as our great national pioneer to
the East.
Now, the steam vessels of the Peninsular
and Oriental Steam Packet Company proceed
from Southampton two or three times a month,
touching at Gibraltar and Malta on their way to
Alexandria. Routes are also opened through
Ostend, Brussels, Cologne, Mentz, Lucerne, the
Rhine and Milan; also through Paris, Strasbourg,
Baden, Zurich, Chur, Collico, and Como. There
are in all about thirteen different routes which may
be taken to reach Alexandria. The railway and
electric telegraph are opened between Alexandria
and Suez; Waghorn omnibuses are consequently
dispensed with, and instead of hotels, there are
refreshment-rooms on the line; but it is to Wag-


horn that all this is to be traced, he it was who
first marked out the way which others have
trodden and improved.
This man, having spent his life, his whole
energies, exhausted his means, ruined his health,
in the cause of his country, was at length re-
warded with a pension.
But it was not granted to him till his end
was fast approaching. He received but one quar-
ter's allowance, and so he died at Pentonville
- worn out in his country's service -an old
man at the age of forty nine. Titles and
honour, pensions and broad acres, are freely
'given to men of whom the majority of their fel-
lows have seldom heard, and whose utility to the
world at large it would be difficult to point out.
Blanks and prizes are dealt out with a very un-
equal hand.
The true men whose lives have been devoted
to the advancement of civilization, the extension
of freedom, the amelioration of human suffering,
the alleviation of human woe, are left in ob-
scurity. They do their work and die, but there
is about such men a dignity which can never be
bestowed by letters patent:-


"A prince can mak' a belted knight,
A marquis, duke, and a' that;
But the useful man's above his might,
Guid faith, he mauna fa' that!
For a' that, and a' that,
Their dignities and a' that,
The pith o' sense, and pride o' worth
Are higher ranks than a' that."




EIGHTEEN hundred and fifty-one was the year of
the Great Exhibition. A fairy-like palace-the
first of its kind-had been erected in Hyde
"A rare pavilion such as man,
Saw never since mankind began
To build and glaze."
In the autumn of that same memorable year
there was a great exhibition at Manchester. Not
an Art Treasures Exhibition, not a display of
painted pictures by masters new and old, and yet
it was an exhibition of the schools-schools un-
known to art critics-not the French, Spanish,
Italian, Dutch, Flemish schools-certainly not
Pre-Raphaelite; belonging, in fact, to the English
of modern time. It was the Sunday-school that
was there exhibited in Peel Park, and inspected
by the Queen and her royal Consort.


Peel Park, Salford, presented a particularly
interesting spectacle on that 10th day of October,
1851. Immense platforms had been erected, the
principal one extending across the park, describ-
ing a slight concave; two smaller ones, ranged
parallel with the front of the large one, with
a carriage drive between them. Any one who
was curious as to statistics might have learned
that the erection of these platforms had cost a
thousand pounds; that the quantity of wood sup-
plied was 9000 cubic feet of American timber,
and 130,000 square feet of three-inch planking;
that the principal platform was 200 yards long
and 27 yards wide, rising four yards and six
inches; that its area was 5400 superficial yards,
and formed an amphitheatre, which was struck
from a radius of 466 yards; that the top and
sides of the platform were railed round with sub-
stantial railings three feet high, inclosed with
three-quarter-inch boarding, eighteen inches high;
that the two minor platforms were constructed on
the same principle, thirteen yards wide, and rising
only three feet six inches high, being separated in
the centre by an opening twelve yards wide. But
it is probable that only few people would care for


this heavy load of figures; enough for the spec-
tator to know that 80,000 children were to occupy
these galleries and level spaces; enough to see
the youngsters-right loyal infantry-marshalled
to their places, and rising up like a great bank of
beautiful flowers, on which the sunbeams fell as
with a loving tenderness. God bless their inno-
cent faces, how hopeful and joyous they looked
that day! Unlike the children of whom, in pas-
sionate strains, the poetess has sung-children
who look up with pale and sunken faces, man's
grief graving the cheeks of infancy, seeking death
in life as best to have:

"'Your old earth,' they say,' is very dreary;'
'Our young feet,' they say, 'are very weak!"
Few paces have we taken, yet are weary-
Our grave-rest is very far to seek.
"Ask the old why they weep, and not the children,
For the outside earth is cold;
And we young ones stand without in our bewildering,
And the graves are for the old!"

Not with such melancholy thoughts do we regard
these children, not such plaintive strains would
these children express; for them Benevolence has
put forth its fair white hand, and Love has smiled
and pointed upward to the skies, and taught them


something of His nature and His constant care who
watches over all things. How grand the song
these children raise! How the music, gathering
strength as it goes on, rolls upward to the skies !
"Crowned by a nation's love,
Guarded by Heaven above,
Long live the Queen!
Long may each voice exclaim,
Wide as Britannia's fame,
Long live Victoria's name-
God bless the Queen!"
How the children shouted when they saw the
Queen and Prince, the Prince of Wales and Prin-
cess Royal; not a trifling huzza, no weak viva,
but aburst of loyalty, immoderate, overpowering.
The Queen was delighted, and freely recognized
the affectionate welcome given to her by her
youthful subjects. They were but poor children,
taught in Sunday-schools the religion and loyalty
of the Bible, they cost the Government nothing,
their teachers were unpaid; all expenses were by
free-will offerings. What country in Europe,
except our own, could exhibit such a spectacle?
In looking on a scene such as that which Peel
Park offered on that memorable October day, the
spectator would be naturally led to inquire into


the circumstance which led to the institution of
these schools. Sunday-schools are now to be
found almost everywhere. All dissenting deno-
minations, as well as the Established Church,
have these schools attached to their places of
worship; and schools of the same kind, indepen-
dent of any particular place of worship, are pros-
perously conducted by teachers who waive all
sectarianism to teach our common Christianity.
How came we to have Sunday-schools ? Like the
beginning of all great institutions, the origin of
Sunday-schools is traceable to the Christian devo-
Stion of one man.
On the 14th of September, 1736, Mr. Raikes,
a printer and publisher of the city of Gloucester,
was blessed with a son, who was baptized by the
name of Robert. Robert Raikes received a plain
education, but was well instructed in religious
truth; he was taught his father's trade, and
ultimately succeeded to the business. The annals
of business life are commonly short and simple,"
and in this respect there is little to distinguish
the career of Mr. Raikes from that of any other
trader in Gloucester or elsewhere. But every
person has, or ought to have, an individuality-


certain tastes and inclinations properly be-
longing to themselves. Great politicians there
may have been in Gloucester, who, in the warmth
of debate on the French war, or the revolted
colonies of America, may have been quite different
sort of people from what they were behind the
counter, at the desk, or on the shop-board.
Others there may have been who cared not for
politics, but who, apart from common daily toil,
liked nothing half so well as talking of the great
men of the time--Samuel, Johnson, David Gar-
rick, Oliver Goldsmith, Sir Joshua Reynolds.
But though Robert Raikes might have been able,
and doubtless was as well able to discuss politics,
literature, or art, as the biggest talker in Glou-
cester, it appears that he gave himself out of
business hours, aye, and in them also, to the
blessed work of doing good.
Raikes was a man of devoted piety. His heart
was open to the appeal of the distressed, his-hand
ready to supply the wants of others. Of the few
worshippers who gathered daily in the spacious,
grand, and imposing cathedral, he was one; he
also was a constant visitor to Gloucester jail, alle-
viating the condition of its unfortunate inmates

i: ,,,
.i. -. --

Raikes was a constant visitor to Gloucester jail, endeavouring to lead its
inmates into the paths of virtue.-p. 52.


and endeavouring to lead them into the paths of
virtue. In the prison cells he was brought into
contact with offenders of all ages; old thieves
who had grown hardened in their sin, and others
who still retained some sense of shame, and wept
when they thought of the pleasant days of youth,
before misery and folly had led them into the hard
paths of the transgressor, and built up a barrier
between them and honest men. An observant
man could not fail to notice that most of these old
offenders had committed their first crime through
ignorance, misfortune, or the influence of bad
example. It occurred to Mr. Raikes that the
children of the poor were not sufficiently edu-
cated; that they were left too much to themselves,
until society was forced to protect itself against
them. What were jails doing to amend young
criminals? Were not these jails the hotbeds
of impurity? An innocent, unsophisticated child
might well be affected by the moral impurity of
the prison atmosphere; how much more liable to
be infected by it were those who were already
predisposed for the disease. The class to whose
miserable condition the mind of Robert Raikes
was especially directed, was far different from that



of the children who now occupy our Sunday-
schools. They resembled more closely the youth
comprehended in the ragged school movement;
the untaught fledgelings of whom jail birds are
One morning Robert Raikes had occasion to
visit the suburbs of the city, an obscure quarter
where the poor made their homes. He wished to
hire a gardener, and the man lived in the heart of
the pin-manufacturing district. He was from
home when Mr. Raikes arrived, and while waiting
the man's return, a troop of boisterous children
considerably annoyed him. They were vile, wicked
children, whose language and gestures shocked
his sense of propriety. Wild, tattered, unkempt,
old in their childhood, poor scarecrows in ap-
pearance, redolent of filth and sin, and shrieking,
blaspheming, sometimes in anger, and sometimes
in jest. Mr. Raikes had seen young Hopeles
immured in jail, but had never before witnessed
young Reckless in his merry moments. His heart
sickened, and he asked-
Do these children belong to this part of the
town; is nothing done for their misery and idle-
ness ?"


Ah, sir!" said the woman to whom he spoke,
" could you take a view of this part of the town on
Sunday, you would be shocked indeed; for then
the street is filled with multitudes of these little
wretches, who, released on that day from employ-
ment, spend their time in noise and riot, playing
at chuck, and cursing and swearing in a manner
so horrid, as to convey to any serious mind an
idea of hell, rather than any other place."
"Now," thought Robert Raikes, "what is
there to be done ? We build prisons, and pay
jailers and constables, we keep a watchful eye on
young thieves, shut them up in cells, scourge
them, let them mingle freely with older offenders
than themselves, and then turn them loose on
society. We have tried everything but teaching.
Suppose we tried that-taught these children
their duty to God and man. But how can such a
work be done ?"
That word Try was so forcibly impressed on
his mind as to induce him to make some imme-
diate effort. I can never pass by that spot," he
said years afterwards to Joseph Lancaster, where
the word 'try' came so powerfully into my mind.


without lifting up my hands and heart to heaven
in gratitude to God, for having put such a thought
into my head."
TRY : whatever be the work in hand, it is the
motto which furnishes a noble incentive. The day
was almost lost on the field of Marengo, when
Napoleon, observing an apparently impregnable
position of the enemy, called young Dessaix to his
side, Can you carry that point ?" asked the Em-
peror. I will try," was the answer. He tried,
succeeded, turned the fortunes of the day. What
if his life went for it ? It is not necessary to live;
but it is necessary to live nobly.
The method adopted by Mr. Raikes in trying
to carry out his benevolent object, was by engag-
ing persons who had been accustomed to instruct
children in reading, and by paying them to re-
ceive and instruct such children as he should send
to them on Sundays. He paid these persons-
poor females, selected with the approbation of the
clergymen-one shilling each. The children were
to come soon after ten in the morning and stay
till twelve; they were then to go home, and re-
turn at one, and after reading a lesson they. were
to be conducted to church. After church they


were to be catechized in the Church Catechism,
the clergyman of the parish occasionally looking
in to examine the progress they had made. They
were to be dismissed at half-past five, with an
injunction to go home quietly, and by no means
to make a noise in the street."
To those who are accustomed to a well-regu-
lated Sunday-school of the present day, its large
cheerful room, separate classes for instruction-
from the infant class, where the box of moveable
letters and large coloured pictures give interest
to the lesson, to the adult Bible class in a sepa-
rate room-the Sunday school as introduced by
Robert Raikes would afford a singular contrast.
Great things are seldom great in their beginning.
The Thames, at its rise in Gloucestershire, is very
different from the same river at the Nore; so the
Sunday-school system at its rise in Gloucester-
shire, is very different from the same system whose
ample flood has converted a barren desert into a
fruitful field. It was about the middle of the year
1780, when the women employed by Robert
Raikes first set about their task; that the under-
taking was good there can be no doubt, and its
effects were such as to warrant the expression


that the place where the great school was opened
was like a heaven on earth compared to what it
had been.
Mr. Raikes thoroughly devoted himself to the
Christian work he had undertaken. He was re-
markably fond of children, and was well versed
in the ways of access to their hearts. The fol-
lowing anecdote is illustrative of this phase of his
character. He called on a poor woman one day
and found a very refractory girl crying and sulk-
ing. He began to talk seriously to the child, and
told her that as the first step to amendment she
must kneel down and beg her mother's pardon.
The girl continued sulky. Well, then," said he,
" if you have no regard for yourself, I have much
regard for you. You will be ruined and lost if
you do not begin to be a good girl; and if you
will not humble yourself, I must do it for you."
With that he knelt down on the ground before
the child's mother, and putting his hands together
continued :. Pray forgive," etc. No sooner did
the stubborn child see him on his knees on her
account, than bursting into tears she earnestly
entreated forgiveness.
In a very interesting letter written to Colonel


Townley about three years after the foundation of
Sunday-schools, Mr. Raikes describes the effects as
most gratifying and encouraging. "The numbers,"
he says, "who have learned to read and say their
catechism are so great that I am astonished at it.
Upon the Sunday afternoon the mistresses take
their scholars to church-a place into which neither
they nor their ancestors ever entered with a view
to the glory of God. But what is more extraor-
dinary, these little ragamuffins have in great num-
bers taken it into their heads to frequent the early
morning prayers, which are held every morning
at the cathedral at seven o'clock. I believe there
were near fifty this morning. They assemble at
the house of one of the mistresses, and walk before
her to church, two and two, in as much order as
a company of soldiers."
It deserves to be remarked, that all the Sun-
day-schools with which Raikes was personally con-
cerned, were placed under the superintendence of
the parochial clergy, and attached to the Esta-
blished Church. It has been asserted sometimes,
that the founder of Sunday-schools was a Dis-
senter; this is a mistake, Mr. Raikes was a
Churchman. In a letter on this subject, written


by his nephew to Sir William Cockburn, he
says:-" My venerated uncle was not only a
member of the Church of England throughout the
whole of his life, but also a most attached and de-
voted one. I should much doubt whether he ever
entered a single place of worship unconnected
with the Establishment; and he was uniform in
his attendance at the parish church on Sundays,
frequent in his attendance at the early prayers in
the cathedral on week days. His memory is
still cherished by some of the oldest inhabitants of
Gloucester, who remember that, though his mind
overflowed with charity and goodwill to men of
all denominations, his affections and allegiance
were always with the Church of England."
As proprietor and printer of the Gloucester
Journal, Mr. Raikes was enabled to give publi-
city to his philanthropic scheme. The matter
was taken up by other local and by the London
papers. The excellent example of the Gloucester
printer was copied in different parts of the king-
dom. A Sunday-school" Society was established
in London, William Fox, Jonas Hanway, Samuel
Thornton, and Henry Hoare taking part in its pro-
ceedings. The Revs. John Wesley and John New-


ton, and the poet Cowper, stated their conviction
that Sunday-schools were well calculated to pro-
mote the moral and religious welfare of the
people. The most formidable obstacle to the pro-
gress of the system of Sunday education was the
cost. Following Mr. Raikes' example of paid
teachers, about one and sixpence each Sunday was
given to the masters and mistresses employed;
this never worked well. Gratuitous teachers were
required, and volunteers were soon found ready to
carry on the work more efficiently than could pos-
sibly have been compassed by paid agency. It
has been shown by Mr. Watson in his admirable
"History of the Sunday School Union," that to re-
munerate the present number of teachers, at the
rate of one and sixpence each Sunday, would
amount to about 975,000 per annum!
Towards the end of the year 1786, Mr. Raikes
was greatly gratified by the good effects produced
in the parish of Painswick, by the establishment
of Sunday-schools. Then it had been the custom
to celebrate an annual festival attended with every
kind of vice and debauchery. Instead of this the
day was passed in the examination of the Sunday
scholars. "Drawn up in a rank around the


churchyard," says Mr. Raikes, "appeared the
children belonging to the different schools to the
number of three hundred and thirty-one. The
gentlemen walked round to view them. It was a
sight interesting and truly affecting. Young
people, lately more neglected than the cattle of
the field, ignorant, profane, filthy, clamorous,
impatient of every restraint, were here seen cleanly,
quiet, observant of order, submissive, courteous
in behaviour, and in conversation free from that
vileness which marks the wretched vulgar."
Robert Raikes might well experience an honest
glow of satisfaction in beholding the result of his
labours. He saw the system which he had intro-
duced extending its ramifications all over the
country-a social banyan whose leaves were for
the healing of the nations. He knew it to be
commended by the wisest and best of men, all of
whom agreed with Adam Smith that no plan had
promised to effect a change of manner with equal
ease and simplicity since the days of the Apostles.
For nearly thirty years the founder of Sunday-
schools lived to witness the beneficial effect of his
benevolent undertaking. For two years previous
to his death his health visibly declined. On the


evening of the 5th of April, 1811, the oppression
in his chest increased to an alarming extent, and
his case was declared hopeless by his medical
attendants. He died peacefully, as a good man
should die.
Lift not thou the wailing voice;
Weep not, 'tis a Christian dieth,
Up where blessed saints rejoice
Ransomed now the spirit flieth;
High in heaven's own light he dwelleth,
Full the song of triumph swelleth:
Freed from earth and earthy failing,
Lift for him no voice of wailing."

"I am the Resurrection and the Life," saith the
Lord; "he that believeth in Me though he were
dead, yet shall he live: and whosoever liveth and
believeth in Me shall never die."
They laid him down to sleep in the south aisle
of the church of St. Mary de Crypt, Gloucester,
and a plain monument, appropriately inscribed,
was raised to his memory. But the founder of
Sunday-schools required no other monument than
that which his work supplied. In France, Hol-
land, Gibraltar, Malta, Switzerland, even in Italy,
Sunday-schools are established; in India, China,
Van Diemen's Land, New South Wales,. South


Sea Islands, in Africa, and throughout America
and the West Indies, there are Sunday-schools-
hundreds of thousands of unpaid teachers have
laboured and are still labouring in the instruction
of millions of children; the Bible their text book,
Christianity their creed, the glory of God and the
salvation of human souls their object; their charter
boldly written in the Saviour's words, Suffer
little children to come unto Me and forbid them
not, for of such is the kingdom of heaven." The
origin of this great work is traceable to Robert
Raikes, and to his inflexible determination in
pursuing this one object-his resolve to make a
bad world better, or at least to TRY.




OB the twenty-first of March, in the year 1799,
David Nasmith was born in the city of Glasgow.
He was the son of respectable and pious parents,
and was baptized at the College Church by Dr.
Love, one of the original secretaries of the London
Missionary Society.
At the age of seven David was sent to the
City Grammar School, but he made very little
progress, entertaining an aversion to the learned
languages, which it is probable he made no strenu-
ous effort to overcome. He spent four years at
school, and learned nothing; at the end of that
time, when his parents proposed sending him to
the university, they discovered that he was totally
ignorant of the rudiments of Latin and disinclined
for an academical career. The course of his edu-
cation was consequently altered. He was taught,
those things only which were likely to be useful to


him in ordinary business. These he readily ac-
quired, diligently applying himself to their attain-
ment, so as to be fitted for the duties of active life.
On the completion of his fourteenth year,
David was bound apprentice to a manufacturer, an
upright, worthy man; who, on retiring from busi-
ness shortly after young Nasmith entered his ser-
vice, transferred him to his brother-in-law, with
whom David remained three years. During this
period he became deeply impressed with religious
truth; he was much troubled in mind; disturbed
in his dreams by night, and tempted to put an
end to his existence. His mental sufferings at
this time he has described in language which
shows how severe the trial must have been. It is
not, however, to be supposed from this that David
Nasmith was guilty of any open vice, or that he
was neglectful of religion. On the contrary, he
had been piously educated, had attended a Sab-
bath school, and with some young friends had
assisted in the formation of a society for the dis-
tribution of Bibles among the poor: religion was
to him so great, and true, and he was so apprehen-
sive of being led into hypocrisy, that his expe-
rience, like that of most other sincere and


thoughtful people, was at first distressing.
There was a storm in his heart which could only
be hushed by the voice that of old spake to the
troubled waves of Galilee, saying, "Peace, be
still I" And that word was spoken. David be-
came decidedly religions; he joined the church in
Nile Street, Glasgow, and soon afterwards began
to feel that anxiety for the religious welfare of
others by which he was characterized through his
How TO BE USEFUL! That was the thought
uppermost in David Nasmith's mind. He was
but sixteen, yet his heart yearned after the happy
labour of making others happy-the blessedness
of giving. All through his long and laborious
life his constant prayer was that he might be emi-
nently pious, eminently useful. The missionary
work appeared to him to offer a wide field of use-
fulness. He aspired to be a preacher, and with
this object in view diligently applied himself to
study. After mature consideration he made
known to the minister whose church he attended
his desire to become a missionary. His wish
was communicated to the managers of the Theo-
logical Academy, and he was summoned before



them; but those "fathers in Israel" could detect
no spark of latent talent in the poor trembling
lad whose heart was on fire, and they refused to
assist him. It was a severe disappointment, but
it had its uses, it taught him the important lesson
of submission.
How TO BE USEFUL It was the thought still
uppermost in David's mind. If the work of
foreign mission was denied him, there was still
work to be done. But he was not in a position to
give himself up to philanthropic labour; he must
earn his bread; and, disappointed in the hope of
being received into the Theological Academy, he
had to seek for employment whereby to live. He
had left his business, and a situation was hard to
find; but he at length obtained an engagement,
and entered on its duties with intelligence and
industry. But the duties of the desk or counter
could not fill up his mind or heart. How to be
useful? that was the question continually recurring,
and suggesting practical methods of doing good.
The Sunday-school furnished opportunity for the
exercise of his zeal and patience. Every Sabbath
evening he addressed two hundred children. The
wants of the adult population were not forgotten,



and schools for them were especially established;
the inmates of the Bridewell and Glasgow jail
excited his compassion, and we find this poor
clerk, but yet twenty years old, pouring religious
instruction and spiritual consolation into the ears
of hardened criminals condemned to die.
Ample opportunities were presented whereby
this youth could be useful, though he was never to
carry the Gospel message to the children of Ham;
the heathen of our cities had claims on him as strong
as those of the heathen of Africa. He soon realized
this idea, and devoted himself more earnestly to
the work he had taken in hand. He had many
troubles. In very humble circumstances, he was
often denied the privilege of giving that temporal
relief which he would have been glad to give;
pressed for time as well as for money, he could
not devote so much of his life as he would have
done to his labour of love. And then there were
home troubles, for his brother was falling into
irreligious and vicious courses, and had become
the source of great anxiety to his relations. And
added to this there were heart troubles; for
David loved a pious and amiable woman, who,
respecting and esteeming him as a man and a



Christian, declined his proposals as a suitor for her
In the autumn of the year 1821, David
Nasmith read an advertisement in the Glasgow
papers which decided his future course.
"Clerk Wanted.-A person acquainted with
books and accounts, to act as Assistant-Secre-
tary to the Religious Societies connected with the
Institution Rooms, No. 59, Glassford Street, to
whom liberal encouragement will be given. None
need apply but such as can satisfy the Committee
that their character is unexceptionable, and that
they have the interests of such societies at heart.
Applications, with reference as to abilities and
qualifications, to be lodged, before the 8th of
November next, at Messrs. Chalmers and Collins',
No. 68, Wilson Street, addressed to the Com-
mittee of said rooms."
How TO BE USEFUL! Here was the answer.
David saw in the situation thus offered a promise
of the realization of his long-cherished hope,
namely, that of devoting his whole time to bene-
volent and religious purposes. He offered his ser-
vices, and was accepted, at a salary of sixty pounds
per annum. It was a small sum for three-and-


twenty societies unitedly to offer for the services
of a talented, trustworthy man; but David cared
nothing whether the salary were little or much, it
was the congenial employment which attracted
him to become the chosen servant of humanity
and religion. He entered on his duties encouraged
by the hope of being useful, and this hope was
fully realized. During his connection with the
Institute he was brought into association with the
most distinguished men of the city, whose com-
panionship could not fail to refine his manners,
enlarge his views, and elevate his character. He
owed much of his manly bearing and easy cour-
tesy to the society into which he was intro-
duced in consequence of his official position ; but
although admitted to a higher sphere than that
in which he had hitherto moved, his modesty and
devotion remained the same.
Among other labours in which David Nasmith
engaged in Glasgow, was that of the formation of
young men's societies. He was fully alive to the
importance of enlisting the sympathies of the
young on the side of truth and virtue. During
the course of his life he formed about seventy of
these societies, consisting of young men between


the ages of fourteen and thirty-five, meeting for
the purposes of mutual improvement and benevo-
lent exertion. But devotedly attached as he was
to the promotion of young men's societies, his
primary object was still missionary-a mission
to the neglected heathen of our cities, the home
pagans, who sit in darkness, squalor, and misery;
who taint our moral atmosphere, and fill our gaols
with criminals-the unchristianized millions who
are overlooked too often and too much by those
whose benevolence expends itself on objects far
removed. With City Missions Nasmith's name
is indissolubly associated. In the great work of
their formation he spent his life.
The spirit of the City Mission was thoroughly
Catholic. All denominations of Christians were
to unite in it; the work was to be carried on by
paid lay agents, who should visit the poor at their
own houses for religious conversation, the distri-
bution of tracts, and the reading of the Scrip-
tures. The first society of this kind formed was
at Glasgow, in 1826, and it became an immediate
favourite with the public.
Three months after the formation of the Glas-
gow City Mission, David Nasmith married. The



lady, daughter of Mr.'Francis Hartridge, of East
Farleigh, Kent, was then carrying on business in
Glasgow. They were admirably adapted to each
other, and for the privations and trials which lay
before them; both were devoted to the cause of
religion; both equally bent on being useful; both
in all respects qualified to carry on the work
which lay so near their hearts.
Two years after his marriage, the health of
David Nasmith began to fail. His energies were
over-taxed; he was sinking from exhaustion;
and at the same time was impressed with the
idea that he was called to labour in a wider
sphere of operation than that which Glasgow
afforded. He was compelled to keep the house, to
cease for awhile from all exertion; it was obvious
that he must have assistance if he again attempted
the labours of his office. What was to be done?
Resign. David was in no pecuniary position to
throw himself out of employment, but this formed
no part of his calculation when he was once satis-
fied that the course he adopted was the right one.
He accordingly sent in his resignation, which
was received with regret, and acknowledged with
many flattering testimonials. A few friends sent


him sixty pounds, a sum which was very accept-
able. From this time David Nasmith went forth
as a missionary without funds; a philanthropist
who had everything but money to make him
another Howard; a man who voluntarily went
about doing good," spending the little he had,
the little his wife's business brought by its sale,
and depending on the unsolicited assistance of
Christian friends.
Nasmith went to Dublin, and there formed a
City Mission. There it seemed probable he would
settle. His earnest zeal and unaffected piety won
for him many friends, but he was not thoroughly
convinced that his path of duty led him to remain
in Ireland. It was an anxious time for him, and
for his wife, who was then residing with her
father in Essex. There David spent a few weeks,
thence returning to Glasgow to settle his affairs,
for something must be done, and done speedily.
He resolved to return to Ireland, and took an
affectionate farewell of his Scottish friends. "I
desire," he writes, "to be extensively useful to
the church with which I may be connected, to the
circle of acquaintance that may be given to me,
to children, to young men, to students of divinity,


to the poor, to the inhabitants of Dublin, to the
inhabitants of Ireland at large." Might he not
have said to the world at large?
So David Nasmith and his wife went forth,
leaving country and kindred, house and 'home,
on a precarious means of livelihood, secured by
no guarantee whatever, except-there was much
in that exception to David's mind-the assurance
that the universal Father will never leave nor for-
sake those who put in Him their trust. In Ire-
land David Nasmith laboured very successfully,
and it appears from his letters that he was very
happy; he travelled over the south and north,
founding useful institutions and holding impor-
tant meetings, and was everywhere well received.
Ireland, however, soon became too small a field
for his labours; he resolved to visit America. He
felt, he says., that he should be more useful in
going to a country where few, if any, City Mis-
sions exist, than he should be in remaining in
Ireland, where already twenty missions had been
After a brief visit to Glasgow, Nasmith, with
his wife and infant son, set sail from Greenock
on the 27th of July, 1830, for New York, where


they arrived on the 3rd of September. The
peculiarities of American society were in many
respects distasteful to our missionary, the mixed
company of the boarding-house, so unlike the
domestic quiet to which he had been accustomed,
suited him not at all; but he set about his work in
good earnest, and forgot all petty annoyances in
laborious occupation.
A City Mission was speedily founded in New
York; this was followed by visits to Newark,
Jamaica, Newport, Providence, Boston, Midford,
Andover, Bradford, Salem, Marblehead, Newbury
Port, Portsmouth, and Portland. In all of these
places Mr. Nasmith assisted to awaken a mis-
sionary spirit and to found, in some instances,
City Missions. He laboured incessantly for three
months, bearing his expenses out of his own
slender means. At the end of this time he deter-
mined to visit New Orleans, the focus of slavery.
After paying his passage, he took with him one
hundred dollars, little more than twenty pounds,
to pay his way back, 1800 miles by land. His
wife wished him to take more, but he refused,
feeling confident that he should meet with assist-
ance on the way. He says: A Christian friend


who accompanied me to the ship, seeing me get a
draft upon New Orleans for one hundred dollars,
after leaving me returned and put into my hands
his order, in the name of the house of which he
was a partner, upon a house in five of the differ-
ent places through which I have to pass, desiring
them when I applied to give me one hundred dol-
lars. This sum, of course, should I find it neces-
sary to avail myself of his order, must be repaid."
David Nasmith carried with him letters of in-
troduction from friends in New York to friends
in New Orleans. The condition of society in that
city was a source of surprise and grief to him, as
he contrasted the mode of spending the Sabbath-
day there with what he had been accustomed to
in Glasgow. He had never witnessed desecration
carried so far. The mortality also amongst the
inhabitants, especially the young and profligate,
saddened him, together with the constant exhibi-
tion of slavery, which he well describes as indeed
a great curse to the land." He was not, how-
ever, to be deterred from the execution of the
purpose which had brought him to New Orleans.
He proposed the establishment of a City Mission.
Many were the obstacles to be overcome, but he


carried his purpose; the society was founded, and
in no city in the world was it more needed. From
New Orleans he proceeded to the Quaker city of
Philadelphia, where he was kindly received, and
assisted in his object. He subsequently visited
Baltimore, and thence returned to New York.
On leaving New York he proceeded to Canada,
resolving, on the completion of his mission in the
British dominions, to return to England.
During his American tour he formed sixteen
City Missions, the American Young Men's So-
ciety, and eight or ten auxiliaries to it; to which
must be added several associations for the benefit
of the coloured people. It must be borne in mind
that he went forth not as the paid agent of an in-
stitution, that he went at his own cost, dependent
for help on the voluntary and unsolicited aid
of fellow-Christians. In the United States he
spent 271 4s., and received 98 15s. 6d., so
that he returned home poorer than he went out
by the sum of 172 8s. 6d., nearly the whole of
all his earthly property. Who shall say that
heroic devotion has departed; that the age of
the truest chivalry is gone ?
On his return to Europe, Mr. Nasmith and

~' I

To their sagacious eyes the plans for a maternity society, and a young men's
mission were instinct with treason.-p. 79.

A sPY! 79

his partner, in all things as diligent and devoted as
himself, proceeded to Glasgow, and very welcome
must the face of the dear old town have been:-

Hame, hame, hame, hame, fain wad I be,
Hame, hame, hame, in my ain countries "

After a short stay in Glasgow, a busy season
full of important results, David visited Dublin,
and before his return to that city, spent a short
time on the way, as usual, in the good work of
city missionary labour.
An amusing anecdote is related of his landing
at Boulogne. There, it seems, his appearance
excited the suspicion of some over-active officials;
he was arrested, taken into a small room, and
searched by three soldiers, all talking together in
French, of which he understood not a word.
They seized his pocket-book, and examined all
his papers; to their sagacious eyes the plan for a
maternity society, and a young men's mission,
were instinct with treason. They saw in David a
spy, an emissary of the refugees, plotting mis-
chief to the throne of the King of the French.
It was a weary while before the man of peace
could make these men of war understand that he


had no political design to answer in landing in
France; but with the help of a translator they
were convinced at last, and David was permitted
to go on to Paris, after presenting each of the
soldiers with a religious tract.
In the gay city of Paris David Nasmith founded
a City Mission; he subsequently visited Havre
and founded a mission there also. His success
was equal to anything that he had anticipated,
and he returned with the pleasant conviction that
he had rendered some permanent service to the
cause of religion in France.
But as time wore on the necessity of doing
something for himself, as well as for others, be-
came more obvious. He was a husband and a
father, and the cares of home were pressing. He
was not in want; the little money he possessed
when he gave up his situation in Glasgow had
been as the barrel of meal and cruse of oil to the
widow of Zarephath. His friends saw that some-
thing must be done for David; but he was not a
man to be easily led into the adoption of any plan
but that which he felt to be right. He might
have obtained situations of trust in association
with religious institutions, but he felt himself un-


able to submit to the trammels of office, and un-
willing to have his talents and time monopolized
in any one object, however good. He might have
entered on mercantile life, and prospered; friends
there were ready to assist him with funds, but
this he positively declined. His plan was to set
up an establishment in Glasgow, for the purpose
of assisting philanthropic individuals and societies.
A registry of lodgings and situations vacant was
to be kept, with the names of those of good
character who wanted places; committee-rooms
were to be formed for the transaction of business, a
reading-room opened, arrangements were also to
be made for recording the proceedings of meetings,
filling up and delivery of notices, issuing reports,
circulars, and periodicals, collecting subscriptions,
receiving contributions, etc. The idea was good,
but it wanted money to carry it on. David
Nasmith entered on it boldly, but he had not the
means of continuing it until success brought the
reward; it failed and he lost his little all.
Thus circumstanced, but never losing his con-
fidence, Nasmith went to Ireland. There he
found kind friends, to whom he communicated his
desire to attempt a mission word in London.


They offered him such assistance as they could give,
endeavouring to secure to him an income of about
200 per annum. This was to be raised by sub-
scription, and of course there was no guarantee pro-
vided that it would ever be carried out. Nasmith,
however, was encouraged to proceed to London,
where he arrived on the 24th of March, 1835. He
took a house at Hoxton, and prepared for the great
work which he purposed carrying on in this city.
David Nasmith's principal difficulty in esta-
blishing a London City Mission arose from the dif-
ferences existing between the Established Church
and the Dissenters. Either would have promptly
adopted the plans proposed could they have acted
alone, but evangelical alliance was what the Scotch
missionary insisted on; it was the corner-stone
of the edifice he sought to raise. Undaunted by
many failures, certainly unconvinced by the argu-
ments used to dissuade him from his. purpose,
Nasmith at length succeeded in obtaining the
co-operation of three or four of the leading minis-
ters in the metropolis, of different denominations.
His next difficulty was to secure office-bearers for
his society. He wanted two Churchmen and two
Dissenters. At his house at Hoxton, on a sum-


mer evening in the year 1835, the first meeting
of the London City Mission was held; Richard Ed-
ward Dear, William Bullock, and David Nasmith
constituted thatmeeting; Mr. Hamilton would have
been there, but lost his way in the intricacies of
Hoxton. These gentlemen met several times to
mature their plans, and it was with unalloyed
pleasure that they hailed Sir Thomas Fowell
Buxton as their treasurer. The name of this
justly-celebrated man imparted dignity to the en-
terprise, and inspired confidence. Supporters, lay
and clerical, multiplied rapidly. In six months
ten agents were at work, in twelve months forty,
in twenty-two months sixty-three; above 400
had been received. The object of the City Mis-
sion was that of communicating religious instruc-
tion to the poor through the medium of lay agency
and household visitation; it was originally con-
templated to have three classes of missionaries-
for the poor, the middling classes, and the rich.
There were to be four hundred missionaries in
our City, and the annual income of the society
was to be swelled to 30,000.
The operations of the Institution certainly
could not be too widely extended, either to meet



the metropolitan necessity, or to satisfy the desire
of David Nasmith; but this gentleman could not,
would not, yield himself entirely to the interests
of one society. He started a philanthropic house,
a tract society, a reading-room, a young men's
society, an adult school, a female mission; and
his zeal called forth censure. It was gravely
argued that Mr. Nasmith was doing too much;
that he ought to be monopolized by the City Mis-
sion; that no man, had he the strength of Samson,
and the mental ability of Locke and Bacon, could
profitably carry on so much diversified labour.
Now, it must be remembered that Mr. Nasmith
was not a paid agent. He was the gratuitous
secretary of the City Mission, its benevolent
founder; the men who presumed to dictate
would never have undertaken the work at all if
it had not been for the self-denying labours of
this Glasgow missionary. It was a hard strait in
which to be placed. He saw the object for which
he had so long toiled almost realized, but threat-
ened by the division which his extraneous move-
ments occasioned. He saw that either he or the
cause must suffer, and there was no hesitation in
the choice. He resigned his connection with the


society, just as a few friends had settled upon him
200 per annum so long as he continued his ser-
vices. But money was nothing to him. He
never laboured for that-for so much yellow pelf.
The barrel was not empty yet, nor the cruse dry!
After quitting the London City Mission, Mr.
Nasmith proceeded to Cambridge, and there
formed a town mission and young men's society.
A Birmingham Mission was also established.
Halifax, Huddersfield, Wakefield, York, were all
visited, and in all of these places missionary
societies were instituted. Nasmith then revisited
Scotland, the total expenditure being 21 2s. 7id.;
the receipts 15 10s. 10d. But what occasioned
more trDuble to this modern apostle than any
pecuniary difficulty of his own, was the want of
funds for carrying on his plans. For his personal
expenses a few friends subscribed to the "Chris-
tian Philanthropist's Fund," whereby it was hoped
about 200 per annum would be realized. But
the sum fell far short of that amount, and was at
all times precarious. To have journeys to per-
form without the means of transport; bills to
meet without money; funds so low, that going
without dinner was an object-this was the con-
dition of one of the best men of his time. The


naming of 5," he writes, was as cold water to
a thirsty soul. You cannot conceive the joy I
feel at the thought of being able to owe no man
anything." He would start forth on a journey
with a few pence in his pocket, trusting in God,
not always finding trust with man.
And so David Nasmith gradually sank. He felt
his own weakness, and endeavoured bravely to bear
it, and considerately to hide it from those whom
it must pain. His spirits were depressed, his old
energy clean gone; but he steadily persevered in
his work, until at last, during his stay at Guildford,
he was struck for death. He was seized with vio-
lent pain while walking along the street; was re-
moved to the house of a Mr. Percy, from thence was
taken to an inn, suffering most intense and excru-
ciating agony; and there, surrounded by stran-
gers, he died, saying to the medical man who
attended him, Will you meet me in heaven ? "
All through his life the inquiry, how to be
useful, was that which he had sought to solve;
and with his parting breath his anxiety still to
drop the word in season was uppermost. He
lived a brave life, and died like a hero-a hero of.
the best and highest style-as a good soldier of
Jesus Christ."



AT the Foundling Hospital, Guildford Street, Lon-
don, there are several fine pictures, which visitors
are permitted to inspect from ten to four on Mon-
days. These pictures serve to illustrate the con-
dition of art in England a hundred and odd years
ago. There are views of several hospitals-the
Foundling and St. George's, by Richard Wilson;
Chelsea and Bethlehem Hospitals, by Haytley;
St. Thomas's, Christ's and Greenwich, by Wale;
the Charter House, by Gainsborough. There are
several Scripture pieces, chief amongst them, a
famous cartoon by Raffael, a picture represent-
ing the Slaughter of the Innocents," and de-
scribed by Haydon as one of the finest instances
in the world of variety of expression and beauty
of composition. This picture was for some time
sent by way of loan to the National Gallery. There
is a picture by Casali, representing the Offering
of the Wise Men;" the altar-piece in the chapel


is painted by West, and represents Christ "Teach-
ing Humility by a Little Child's Example;" there
are some portraits of George II.; of the Earl of
Macclesfield, by Wilson; of Dr. Neal, by Allan
Ramsay; of the Earl of Dartmouth, by Reynolds;
of Handel, by Kneller. But the most interest-
ing pictures in the collection are those of the in-
imitable Hogarth.
Here we have the March of the Guards to
Finchley," displaying wit and humour of no com-
mon kind. The Guards, who have turned out to
oppose the advance of the Scottish rebels, are
seen in Tottenham Court Road in a state of
lamentable confusion and disorder, drunken, and
surrounded by a horde of women; all shouting,
drinking, and swearing, baggage-waggons upset,
and all discipline at an end. When George II.
saw this picture he was vastly indignant. "Who
is this Hogarth ?" said he, to a lad in waiting.
"The painter, my liege." "Bainter! I hate baint-
in and boetry too; neither of them ever did any
good. Does the fellow mean to laugh at my
Guards?" "The picture, an't please your Ma-
jesty, must undoubtedly be regarded as a bur-
lesque." What, a bainter burlesque a soldier!


He deserves to be bicketed for his insolence.
Take his trumpery out of my sight!" Frederick
of Prussia, also a soldier, proved that he knew
better what was due to genius when he received
the picture as a present, and sent the artist a
handsome acknowledgment.
There is another picture of Hogarth's in the
Hospital, the Finding of the Infant Moses by
the Daughter of Pharaoh." But Scripture and
historic composition were not in his vein; he
fumed and fretted over this, and was ambitious
to outshine Raffael, but the burlesque turn of
his mind mixed itself with the most serious sub-
ject. In his own style he had no equal; pity he
should ever have attempted to attain that which
was so foreign to his nature. But he was good
at portraiture, though working but seldom in
that line. He could speak the truth on canvas,
and the truth he always spake. Who does not
remember the story of that uncommonly ugly
nobleman who sat for his picture to Hogarth, and
was mightily incensed because, as a Chinese
artist expressed it on a similar occasion. he
would "no paint ugly handsome." The peer
would not accept the picture-would not pay; but


the limner sends him word that a pressing neces-
sity for money induces him to accept the terms
of Mr. Pare, the famous wild beast man, who
proposes using it, with the addition of a tail, and
some other appendages, as an exhibition picture!
Back comes the money, with a demand for the
instant sending in of the picture; the said picture
to be committed to the flames.
But Hogarth could paint portraits, and paint
them well. He could have painted Cromwell,
who directed Lely to leave out no scar or mole,
admirably; but he never would have consented
to adopt the stratagem of the ancient painter,
who depicted his one-eyed prince in profile. Where
can a better portrait be found than that of Cap-
tain Coram, in the Foundling? The bronzed
face of the honest seaman is instinct with life;
mildly benevolent, wise and thoughtful, the good
man looks from the canvas, as doubtless he looked
in life. There is something about a good like-
ness which cannot be mistaken; there are por-
traits about which, without ever having seen the
original, you conclude that they are faithful, that
the softening of blemishes and heightening of
beauties-Sir Joshua's recipe-has not been


overdone. Such is the picture of brave, lamb-
hearted Captain Coram, as painted by Hogarth.
"The portrait," says the painter, "I painted
with the utmost pleasure, and in which I particu-
larly wished to excel, was that of Captain Coram,
for the Foundling Hospital; and if I am so
wretched an artist as my enemies assert, it is
somewhat strange that this, which was one of the
first I painted the size of life, should have stood
the test of twenty years' competition, and be
generally thought the best portrait in the place,
notwithstanding the first painters in the kingdom
exerted all their talents to vie with it." There
may in this be a little vanity on the painter's part
-and whether we paint, or preach, or sing, or
write, vanity is the badge of all our tribe-but
there was some foundation for the vanity.
Before saying more about the original of
Hogarth's pet portrait, we may be permitted to
conduct the reader to the Foundling Hospital
while it was yet new, and Lamb's Conduit Fields
were brave with all the fashion of the time. A very
gay scene is that which is presented, for the place
where the Captain has erected his charity house
has become a fashionable lounge for Lady Flutter


and Lord Foplington, and Dr. Drench and his
lady, and Mrs. Pennyweight, the city grocer's lady,
and her daughters fair. Here are they, butterflies
all-Lepidoptera; sub-order chiefly Rhopatocera;
diurnal in their habits, fluttering from flower to
flower in the hottest sunshine; large and most
magnificent species many of them, exhibiting an
elegance and variety of colour unsurpassed-Va-
nessa lo and Cynthia Cardui very conspicuous in
the busy throng. Place aux Dames! Observe
the beauties of Cynthia Cardui-in common
Saxon vernacular, the Painted Lady-a belle of
the season, that might have stepped out of one of
Hogarth's pictures: green dress of rich material,
frizzled round the elbows with sixteen ruffles at
the least; petticoat short, and hoop-what crino-
line, "sans flectum," or otherwise, can compare
with it ?-eight yards wide; an irresistible little
apron of snowy lawn, all trimmed in knots and
bows with cherry-coloured satin; a capuchin, or
hood, of grey silk over the. head, but not so far
drawn over, nor so closely, as to hide the powdered
hair and fair face of red and white set off with
patches; high-heeled slippers of velvet, gold-
embroidered; a stomacher of lawn, with crimson


ribbons; gloves and' fan to match. There are
ladies here by the score similarly dressed, driving
the scented beaux half mad with love, at least so
far as scented beaux can admit of such excite-
ment. Beaux! here they are. Place, if you
please, Sir Vanessa lo (painted butterfly) under
inspection, and see whether he be a whit less gor-
geous than the ladies. Monsieur Frisson has
given him a well-frizzed wig, with a bag of the
latest Paris manufacture; a grey wig it is, and
sets off his powdered and painted face, patched
like the ladies; his coat is a full frock, bloom-
coloured, like the coat which poor Goldsmith ex-
hibited with so much pride, as made by Filby, of
Water Lane, but it is embroidered by Parisian
hands with flowers and leaves a great deal more
showy than nature; short satin breeches, tightly
fitting to the paddings, and not reaching to the
knee; cobweb silk stockings; pumps of grained
leather; diamond buckles; satin vest; lace ruffles;
lace frilled shirt; necktie a la Versailles; three-
cornered hat (Egham, Staines, or Windsor); a
gold-hilted sword, with which one thinks of trans-
fixing said butterfly while under examination,
adding him so impaled to an entomologist's col-


election. Let us not forget his gold repeater, by
Graham; nor his handkerchief saturated with
musk. Sure the dandy was made to match the
bevy of beauties by which he is surrounded; all
are of the world of fashion, dwelling in rose-
coloured boudoirs, looking at nature from a con-
venient distance, and quite ignorant of hard
work, or hard fare, or hard fortune, their thread
of life spun of the softest and whitest wool; what
know these splendid Rhopatocera of caterpillars
feeding upon nettles!
Yet flirting, promenading, lisping, laughing
as lightly and genteelly as gentlefolks can laugh,
they might know something of this by reason of
the very hospital beneath whose walls they walk.
They might an' they would, see the poor grovelling
caterpillars, toiling and dying, of a destructive race,
with no beauty to commend them, of voracious
larvae, and the rest of it; but they have come to
learn no such lessons. How warm the air is!
How balmy the breath of spring! How delightful
to be a shepherd or a shepherdess-after the
Dresden china pattern-and tend with silver
crooks the gentle little bleaters in Lamb's Con-
duit Fields! There is Hogarth; there is Wilson,

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