LIFE OF 



Must own the pedant's iron rule, 

 And far from sylvan shades and bowers, 

 In durance vile must pass the hours ; 

 There con the scholiast's dreary lines, 

 Where no bright ray of genius shines. 

 And close to rugged learning cling, 

 While laughs around tile jocund spring. 



How gladly would my soul forego 

 All that arithmeticians know, 

 Or stiff grammai'ians quaintly teacli. 

 Or all that industry can reach, 

 To taste each morn of all the joys 

 That with the laughing sun arise ; 

 And unconstrain'd to rove along 

 The bushy brakes and glens among ; 

 And woo the muse's gentle power 

 In unfrequented rural bower ! 

 But ah ! such heav'n-approaching joys 

 Will never greet my longing eyes ; 

 Still will they cheat in vision fine, 

 Yet never but in fancy shine. 



Oh, that I were the little wren 



That shrilly chirps from yonder glen! 



Oh, far away I then would rove, 



To some secluded bushy grove ; 



There hop and sing with careless glee, 



Hop and sing at liberty ; 



And till death should stop my lays. 



And far from men would spend my days. 



About this time his mother was induced, bj the advice 

 of several friends, to open a ladies' boarding and day 

 school in Nottingham, her eldest daughter having pre- 

 viously been a teacher in one fur some time. In this 

 she succeeded beyond her most sanguine expectations, 

 and Henry's home comforts were thus materially in- 

 creased, though it was still out of the power of his family 

 to give him that education and direction in life which 

 his talents deserved and required. 



It was now determined to breed him up to the hosiery 

 trade, the staple manufacture of his native place, and at 



