
105 
The Nowells first, from sire to son, 
Four centuries or nearly ; 
When fair girl-bride brought Appleton 
Bonny Little Mearley. 
Their grandchild Ann, failing male heirs, 
Answered suitor’s question 
By taking name the stock still bears, 
That from Malham—Preston. 
Kindred in mansions Pendle round, 
One family met yearly, 
When Gawthorpe, Royle, and Listers found 
Bonny Little Mearley. 
Forefathers of a noble race, 
Your loves and leisures sue, 
To contemplation’s sweet embrace ;— 
Your pastorai pleasures too,— 
Whene’er I visit the old scenes, 
Fancy woos so dearly, 
I would not change for home of queens, 
Bonny Little Mearley. 
On his maternal side he is descended from the ancient family 
of the Kayes of York. He has copies of wills and many interesting 
documents belonging to this family. His great aunt, Anne Kay, 
was quite a literary character, and is referred to in the ‘“ Life 
and Memoirs of Sydney Smith” the witty Dean of St. Paul's. 
She was apothecary, housekeeper and friend, so it is stated, 
waiting upon her master, until she closed her eyes in death. She 
soothed his long illness by often reading to him interesting novels 
and other books. Many letters, curios and mementos of this 
good lady and her master’s family, are held in great veneration. 
Some of them relate to Leonard Horner, Lord John Russell and 
other literati, who were great friends, and constantly calling at 
Mr. Smith’s London House. 
Our friend was born in what was, then, a highly respectable 
part of the town of Burnley. Old Mr. Hargreaves, benign, 
dignified, and lovingly looked up to, had a seminary close to, 
for the education of those, whose parents were of an inspiring 
turn or who were well to do. ‘This gave quite a literary 
savour to the locality, emphasised more so, from the fact of 
Mr. T. B. Spencer living within a few doors. He loomed largely 
in those days as a literary and poetic character. Like Mr. 
Hargreaves, he was a dominie, but of a lowlier kind. His 
seminary was reached by ascending a projecting flight of steps, in 
a court off Cliviger Street. He was our hero’s first schoolmaster, 
and to this small cause, possibly, this paper may be con- 
nected. He certainly was a unique, kindly, easy going, literary 
curiosity. He could teach, and he, like Coleridge, occasionally 
preached, but he hadn’t the knack of getting on in the world. 
I also sat under him, and remember how he used to flick us 
