The Life of William Hulton, of Birmingham^ 



634. 



little."' A turnip-field has supplied the 

 place of a cook's shop ; a sprint;, that of 

 a public-house; and, while at Birming- 

 ham, I knew by repeated experience, 

 that cherries were a half-penny a pound. 



I airived at Derby at nine in the even- 

 ing. My father gladly received me, and 

 dropped a tear for my misfortunes. We 

 agreed that he should send for my uncle 

 early in the morning, who would proba- 

 biy be Willi us by four in the evening, 



Sunday 19. My father told me that 

 I could not have appeared before him in 

 a more disadvantageous light, if I had 

 •aid I was out nf a jail: that he should 

 think nf this disagreeable circumstance 

 •very future day of his life, and that I 

 must allow him to reprove me before my 

 uncle. 



At the time approached, lie seemed 

 greatly cast down, and invited two of my 

 uncle's old friends to step in, and soften 

 matters between us. But I considered 

 that my uncle was naturally of a good 

 temper, passion excepted ; that I had left 

 him suing for peace; that I had returned 

 a volunteer, which carried the idea of 

 repentance; that he must be conscious 

 he had injured me; that he considered 

 my service as a treasure, which he had 

 been deprived of, and which, being found, 

 he would rejoice at, juit in proportion as 

 he had grieved at the loss. 



The two friends forgot to come. About 

 nine my uncle entered, and shook hands 

 •with my father, for the two brothers were 

 fond of each other. While their hands 

 were united, my uncle turned lo me, with 

 » look of benignity, superficially covered 

 with anger, and said, *'Are not you to 

 blame?'' I was silent. 



The remainder of the evening was 

 spent agreeably ; and, in the course of 

 it, my uncle said, that if my father would 

 make up one half of my loss, he would 

 make up the other. My father received 

 the proposal joyfully, and they ratified 

 the agreement by a second shake of the 

 hand. But, I am sorry to observe, it 

 was thought of no more by either. I 

 considered it peculiarly hard, that the 

 promise to punish me was remembered, 

 but the promise to reward me forgotten. 



This unhappy ramble damped my rising 

 spirit. I could not forbear viewing my- 

 self in the light of a fugitive. It sunk 

 me in the eye of my ocquainiance, and 

 I did not recover my former balance for 

 two years. It also ruined me in point of 

 dress, for I was not able to re-assume 

 iny former appearance for five years. It 

 ran me in debt, out of which I have 

 nerec been to this day. Nov. 21, 1799. 



LEARNS BOOK.BINDIN«. 



1746. — An inclination for books began 

 to expand ; but here, as in music and dress, 

 money was wanting. The first article 

 of purchase was three volumes of the 

 Gentleman's Magazine, 1742, 3, and 4. 

 A* I could not afford to pay for binding, 

 1 fastened them together in a most cob- 

 bled style. These afforded me a treat. 



I could only raise books of small value, 

 and these in worn-out bindings. I learnt 

 to patch, procured paste, varnish, &c. 

 and brought them into tolerable order; 

 erected shelves, and arranged them in 

 the best manner I was able. 



If I purchased shabby books, it is no 

 wonder that I dealt with a shabby book- 

 seller who kept his working apparatus ia 

 his shop. It is no wonder too, if by re- 

 pented visits I became acquainted with 

 tliis shabby bookseller, and often saw 

 him at work ; but it is a wonder and a 

 fact that I never sa\v him perform one 

 act but I could perform it myself, so 

 strong was the desire to attain the art. 



I made no secret of my progress, and 

 the bookseller rather encouraged me, 

 and that for two reasons : I bought sudi 

 rubbish as nobody else would ; and he 

 had often an opportunity of selling me a 

 cast-off tool for a shilling, not worth a 

 penny. As I was below every degree 

 of opposition, a rivalship was out of the 

 question. 



The first book I bound was a very 

 small one, Shakspear's Venus and Ado- 

 nis. I shewed It to the bookseller. He 

 seemed surprized. I could see jealousy 

 in his eye. However, he recovered in 

 a moment, and observed, that though he 

 had sold me the books and tools remark' 

 ably cheap, he could not think of giving 

 so much for them again. He had nw 

 doubt but I should break. 



He offered me a worn-down press for 

 two shillings, which no man could use, 

 and which was laid by for the fire. I 

 considered the nature of its construction; 

 bought it, and paid the two shillings. I 

 then asked him to favour me wich a ham- 

 mer and a pin, which he brought with 

 half a conquering smile, and half a sneer. 

 I drove out the garter-pin, which, being 

 galled, prevented the press from working, 

 and turned another square, which per- 

 fectly cured the press. He said, ia 

 anger, "If I liad known, you should not 

 hiive had it." H <wever, I could see he 

 consoled himself with ihe idea that all 

 must return in the end. Tins proved 

 for 42 years my best bi.iding press, 



I now purchased a tolerably genteel 

 soil of clothes, aiid was so careful of 



them. 



